Actually my AAR starts in 1556. I don't know the exact date of the Venetian bombardment but I'll assume that they already did it.
I'm glad you enjoyed reading about my battle for Ikaria Harbour.
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I'm glad you enjoyed reading about my battle for Ikaria Harbour.
Ah, I've looked it up:
You can find this and more info here.
So... Arcadian, I guess you'll have to slightly modify that picture. NOW! :rofl:
You can find this and more info here.
So... Arcadian, I guess you'll have to slightly modify that picture. NOW! :rofl:
Arrival at Halicarnassus
Halicarnassus, Smyrna Province
"Well Mikey we finally made it!"
"Yeah we did, Dimitri!" laughed Michael. "Thank God we're on land again!"
"Thank God we're not being ambushed by dirty Turks again," snickered Dimitri.
As Dimitri and Michael were talking, the final men exited the Korinthia and set foot aboard Asia Minor. People were cheering, talking, and moving supplies onto the land. The great Aegean had given the Greeks passage to this landmass, where the Turkish tribes claimed residence. The Theseus bobbed gently in the water, with five or so other ships behind it. More ships arrived each day, which meant more soldiers to fight the Ottomans and free the Greeks from their tyrannical rule. The Greeks had taken the port of Halicarnassus, which had only light defenses, and used it as a gateway to Smyrna and Asia Minor. In the words of Vasili Demakis at Athens:
our journey towards Smyrna. There we shall take the battle so close to the Turks' capital in Anatolia that the Sultan will be able to smell the scent of his armies burning!
"Is there anything to do in Halicarnassus?" said Dimitri, looking at the busy people scurrying around him carrying supplies.
"Not much, really. I hear the women are older than the ruins!" said Michael, sticking out his tongue in disguist. "Although, keep this quiet, but I heard that some of the soldiers from the Justinian found the governor's harem and had quite a wild night."
Dimitri laughed. "I guess when you're running tail back to the Sultan, you forget to bring your wives and concubines with you!"
"Haha! I'd like to find a few Turks left behind here myself. Give them a little taste of what they did at Ikaria Harbour. Dirty bastards!" cursed Michael.
"I know, Michael. But its a war and-"
"Don't tell me what they did was fair!" shouted Michael.
Dimitri was silent.
"Look I'm sorry, Dimitri. I'm just a little on edge because of that night. I lost too many friends."
Dimitri nodded.
__________
September 21st, 1557
Halicarnassus, Smyrna Province
The Turkish officer sat their, tied to a crabby old wooden chair. The night was very dark and silent, with a hint of moonlight on the ground. The Greeks surrounded the officer, waiting for him to speak. He stared at them all. They all had straight faces and were all unarmed, except for one.
One of them punched him in the gut. "Speak you dirty coward!" he yelled at the Turk.
The men screamed in pain. His faced was already bloody, and his clothes were dirty as well. They had taken his jewels from him. They had taken his arms. All because he was injured and had to be left behind by his fellow officers. He panted heavily, trying not to look at the merciless Greek punisher.
An officer stepped up into the circle. "Vasili, please. Maybe this man cannot speak Greek."
"Get back in line!" he roared at the man. "Judging by the wealth on this piece of dirt, I'd say he can."
"But what if he can't!" bursted out the man.
"Well then," Vasili smiled. "I guess he'll just have to take the pain and hope that he dies soon."
Vasili punched him in the face. "Speak! Now!"
The man was silent this time, dripping blood from his mouth.
Vasili turned away from the Turk. "I suppose he can't speak Greek."
The officers began chatting away now.
"Then he is of course no use to us, correct," Vasili snickered looking back at his officers. He unsheathed the sword at his right side and held it up high. "Then we should get rid of him."
He pushed the sword deep into the man's stomach, until the sword hit the back of the chair. The Turk spewed out blood. Vasili removed the sword from the man's body and examined the blood on his sword.
"Funny, I had always thought that the blood of Turks was black," he laughed.
With his last breath the Turk said, "Asto Diabolo!*" and died.
Vasili's face turned red.
__________
*Asto Diabolo is Greek for 'Go to hell'
Arrival at Halicarnassus
September 20th, 1557Halicarnassus, Smyrna Province
"Well Mikey we finally made it!"
"Yeah we did, Dimitri!" laughed Michael. "Thank God we're on land again!"
"Thank God we're not being ambushed by dirty Turks again," snickered Dimitri.
As Dimitri and Michael were talking, the final men exited the Korinthia and set foot aboard Asia Minor. People were cheering, talking, and moving supplies onto the land. The great Aegean had given the Greeks passage to this landmass, where the Turkish tribes claimed residence. The Theseus bobbed gently in the water, with five or so other ships behind it. More ships arrived each day, which meant more soldiers to fight the Ottomans and free the Greeks from their tyrannical rule. The Greeks had taken the port of Halicarnassus, which had only light defenses, and used it as a gateway to Smyrna and Asia Minor. In the words of Vasili Demakis at Athens:
our journey towards Smyrna. There we shall take the battle so close to the Turks' capital in Anatolia that the Sultan will be able to smell the scent of his armies burning!
"Is there anything to do in Halicarnassus?" said Dimitri, looking at the busy people scurrying around him carrying supplies.
"Not much, really. I hear the women are older than the ruins!" said Michael, sticking out his tongue in disguist. "Although, keep this quiet, but I heard that some of the soldiers from the Justinian found the governor's harem and had quite a wild night."
Dimitri laughed. "I guess when you're running tail back to the Sultan, you forget to bring your wives and concubines with you!"
"Haha! I'd like to find a few Turks left behind here myself. Give them a little taste of what they did at Ikaria Harbour. Dirty bastards!" cursed Michael.
"I know, Michael. But its a war and-"
"Don't tell me what they did was fair!" shouted Michael.
Dimitri was silent.
"Look I'm sorry, Dimitri. I'm just a little on edge because of that night. I lost too many friends."
Dimitri nodded.
__________
September 21st, 1557
Halicarnassus, Smyrna Province
The Turkish officer sat their, tied to a crabby old wooden chair. The night was very dark and silent, with a hint of moonlight on the ground. The Greeks surrounded the officer, waiting for him to speak. He stared at them all. They all had straight faces and were all unarmed, except for one.
One of them punched him in the gut. "Speak you dirty coward!" he yelled at the Turk.
The men screamed in pain. His faced was already bloody, and his clothes were dirty as well. They had taken his jewels from him. They had taken his arms. All because he was injured and had to be left behind by his fellow officers. He panted heavily, trying not to look at the merciless Greek punisher.
An officer stepped up into the circle. "Vasili, please. Maybe this man cannot speak Greek."
"Get back in line!" he roared at the man. "Judging by the wealth on this piece of dirt, I'd say he can."
"But what if he can't!" bursted out the man.
"Well then," Vasili smiled. "I guess he'll just have to take the pain and hope that he dies soon."
Vasili punched him in the face. "Speak! Now!"
The man was silent this time, dripping blood from his mouth.
Vasili turned away from the Turk. "I suppose he can't speak Greek."
The officers began chatting away now.
"Then he is of course no use to us, correct," Vasili snickered looking back at his officers. He unsheathed the sword at his right side and held it up high. "Then we should get rid of him."
He pushed the sword deep into the man's stomach, until the sword hit the back of the chair. The Turk spewed out blood. Vasili removed the sword from the man's body and examined the blood on his sword.
"Funny, I had always thought that the blood of Turks was black," he laughed.
With his last breath the Turk said, "Asto Diabolo!*" and died.
Vasili's face turned red.
__________
*Asto Diabolo is Greek for 'Go to hell'
The Demon and the Monk
Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
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"What do you see!" shouted Vasili Demakis, his words now sounding faint.
The man looked hard into his telescope, "Venetian ships! Some dozen galleys or so."
Vasili thought to himself quietly. "What is their destination?" he yelled back.
The man was high atop a rocky plateau, not too far from his division. The sun was beating down very brightly on the men, as Aegean winters are very mild. The Venetian galleys pushed farther northwards, through the Straights.
"Commander, I think they are headed towards Constantinople!" he shouted back.
The men stared in disbelief. A small pack of Venetian ships travelling to the near heart of the Ottoman Empire in the middle of a war! This was ubsurd.
Vasili figured the Venetians were up to some useless raid, or to try and occupy some islands passed the Dardanelles held by the Turks. It didn't bother him at all. Let them beat each other up he fugured to himself.
"We've all the information we need now!" he shouted at the man. "Alright men," he said now turning to his small division of soldiers. "We're heading back to Smyrna after a short rest. No longer than ten minutes or so."
The soldiers groaned. They used their remaining time to talk or drink up the last few drops of fresh water before refilling their leather bottles at some nearby spring or stream.
So they embarked back to Smyrna, where the Greeks had had been relentlessly sieging the Turkish garrison of the city.
__________
January 10th, 1558
Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
The frail monk tightened his brown, weather stained robe. The air was beginning to chill beneath the bright sun. His sandals were dusty from the rocky hills of the region, as were his feet. A once brilliant red cloak, now dulled over the passing years, was adorning his shoulders and back over the old robe. His beard was silvery, white strips of darker grey and purer white in it. His hair was the same, and the long strands flowed in with his beard.
He looked down upon the small contingent of Greeks. Marching slowly, with a certain degree of disorganization, he could see they were tired. Their leader forced them onwards, pushing his men to keep up. What were they thinking? the monk thought to himself. They were a stone's throw away from the Sultan's palace in Bursa. They were in danger.
Dimitri Trivolas and Michael of Chios grumbled to themselves, as their leader forced them right through the rocky foothills along the northeatern Aegean. This was no ordinary leader guiding their reconaissance run, but the Commander of the Second Greek Army Vasili Demakis himself. The famous Greek war hero from Crete, and known to be the most skilled Greek in the art of war. The hero's presence was a boost to the small company's morale, yet they found him to be quite the leader. Michael and Dimitri were priveleged nonetheless to have this opportunity, as they were both survivors of the bloody scene at Ikaria Harbour.
"Michael, I think I see something," whispered Dimitri, squinting his eyes and looking at the top of the mountain.
"What are you talking about Dimitri," said Michael, exhausted from the tough trek.
"No, wait. Someone! I think I see someone up on those hills over there!" exclaimed Dimitri, pointing to the rocky segments of hills farther inland to them.
Michael glanced up. He saw nothing.
"Probably just some tree, or maybe another... rock!" sighed Michael in a sarcastic tone.
Dimitri swore he saw someone.
They moved farther down the coat, trying to use the hills to stay hidden from any Turkish scouts. Vasili pushed them harder, insisting that they make a speedy return to Smyrna after this pointless excursion. What a waste? Vasili thought to himself. He was hoping for some battle with a band of raiding Turks, where he could show off his skills and deal some punishment. Now he would return to Smyrna with the whereabouts of a dozen or so Venetian ships...
Vasili stopped ubrubtly in his tracks.
Michael grumbled again. "What now!" he said aloud.
Everyone stared at the obstacle blocking Vasili. An frail old man in some dusty old clothes, standing on a boulder a few feet from Vasili.
Vasili looked at him, moving his eyes up and down. "Who are you old man?" he asked.
The men were silent, looking at the old man for a response.
He replied in a strong voice,
"Why do the Sons of Hellas march
North to face their dreaded fates?
Turkish wolves they stalk this land.
So close indeed to the Sultan's gates."
Vasili was silent again, cocking his head from side to side, tring to think who this man was and what in God's name he was talking about.
Vasili let out a deep, almost mocking laugh. "First thing, old man," he laughed. "Is that I am marching south. Not north! And I have yet to see a single Turk since we left Smyrna."
The man replied, "Tell me, have you kept to the coast?"
Vasili's grin slowly melted away into an air of suspicion. "Why, what have you heard?"
The man shook his head. "Do you think I have heard anything? Why do your men avoid the Ventian ships and hide by the coastal hills?"
"That's an easy one, old man," he smirked. "And your point is!" snapped back Vasili quickly.
The man smiled. "How do you not know that the Turks are keeping withingthe coast to avoid the Venetians? Is it possible that they stay deeper into the land?"
Vasili could hear the men talking in the back to themselves. "Silence!" he yelled at them. "You will now listen to me old man! I will not have you making a mockerry of me in front of my men!"
The old man replied, "Have you not done that to yourself?"
Vasili drew the sword by his right side in fury. Holding it with one hand, he clenched the other in anger. "Stop aswering me with questions! Tell me your name immediately old man, 'lest you find your stomach pierced by steel!"
The old man held his hand up, moving it down slowly to try and calm Vasili down. "Tisk-tisk-tisk. You are very angered indeed, young one. It has been said that once a man has seen hell, he can only see horror from then on, and his mind is filled with anger and hatred." He smiled, trying to bring some light to this tempered young man. "Why don't you step into my home. I will explain everything to you there."
The Demon and the Monk
January 10th, 1558Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
"What do you see!" shouted Vasili Demakis, his words now sounding faint.
The man looked hard into his telescope, "Venetian ships! Some dozen galleys or so."
Vasili thought to himself quietly. "What is their destination?" he yelled back.
The man was high atop a rocky plateau, not too far from his division. The sun was beating down very brightly on the men, as Aegean winters are very mild. The Venetian galleys pushed farther northwards, through the Straights.
"Commander, I think they are headed towards Constantinople!" he shouted back.
The men stared in disbelief. A small pack of Venetian ships travelling to the near heart of the Ottoman Empire in the middle of a war! This was ubsurd.
Vasili figured the Venetians were up to some useless raid, or to try and occupy some islands passed the Dardanelles held by the Turks. It didn't bother him at all. Let them beat each other up he fugured to himself.
"We've all the information we need now!" he shouted at the man. "Alright men," he said now turning to his small division of soldiers. "We're heading back to Smyrna after a short rest. No longer than ten minutes or so."
The soldiers groaned. They used their remaining time to talk or drink up the last few drops of fresh water before refilling their leather bottles at some nearby spring or stream.
So they embarked back to Smyrna, where the Greeks had had been relentlessly sieging the Turkish garrison of the city.
__________
January 10th, 1558
Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
The frail monk tightened his brown, weather stained robe. The air was beginning to chill beneath the bright sun. His sandals were dusty from the rocky hills of the region, as were his feet. A once brilliant red cloak, now dulled over the passing years, was adorning his shoulders and back over the old robe. His beard was silvery, white strips of darker grey and purer white in it. His hair was the same, and the long strands flowed in with his beard.
He looked down upon the small contingent of Greeks. Marching slowly, with a certain degree of disorganization, he could see they were tired. Their leader forced them onwards, pushing his men to keep up. What were they thinking? the monk thought to himself. They were a stone's throw away from the Sultan's palace in Bursa. They were in danger.
Dimitri Trivolas and Michael of Chios grumbled to themselves, as their leader forced them right through the rocky foothills along the northeatern Aegean. This was no ordinary leader guiding their reconaissance run, but the Commander of the Second Greek Army Vasili Demakis himself. The famous Greek war hero from Crete, and known to be the most skilled Greek in the art of war. The hero's presence was a boost to the small company's morale, yet they found him to be quite the leader. Michael and Dimitri were priveleged nonetheless to have this opportunity, as they were both survivors of the bloody scene at Ikaria Harbour.
"Michael, I think I see something," whispered Dimitri, squinting his eyes and looking at the top of the mountain.
"What are you talking about Dimitri," said Michael, exhausted from the tough trek.
"No, wait. Someone! I think I see someone up on those hills over there!" exclaimed Dimitri, pointing to the rocky segments of hills farther inland to them.
Michael glanced up. He saw nothing.
"Probably just some tree, or maybe another... rock!" sighed Michael in a sarcastic tone.
Dimitri swore he saw someone.
They moved farther down the coat, trying to use the hills to stay hidden from any Turkish scouts. Vasili pushed them harder, insisting that they make a speedy return to Smyrna after this pointless excursion. What a waste? Vasili thought to himself. He was hoping for some battle with a band of raiding Turks, where he could show off his skills and deal some punishment. Now he would return to Smyrna with the whereabouts of a dozen or so Venetian ships...
Vasili stopped ubrubtly in his tracks.
Michael grumbled again. "What now!" he said aloud.
Everyone stared at the obstacle blocking Vasili. An frail old man in some dusty old clothes, standing on a boulder a few feet from Vasili.
Vasili looked at him, moving his eyes up and down. "Who are you old man?" he asked.
The men were silent, looking at the old man for a response.
He replied in a strong voice,
"Why do the Sons of Hellas march
North to face their dreaded fates?
Turkish wolves they stalk this land.
So close indeed to the Sultan's gates."
Vasili was silent again, cocking his head from side to side, tring to think who this man was and what in God's name he was talking about.
Vasili let out a deep, almost mocking laugh. "First thing, old man," he laughed. "Is that I am marching south. Not north! And I have yet to see a single Turk since we left Smyrna."
The man replied, "Tell me, have you kept to the coast?"
Vasili's grin slowly melted away into an air of suspicion. "Why, what have you heard?"
The man shook his head. "Do you think I have heard anything? Why do your men avoid the Ventian ships and hide by the coastal hills?"
"That's an easy one, old man," he smirked. "And your point is!" snapped back Vasili quickly.
The man smiled. "How do you not know that the Turks are keeping withingthe coast to avoid the Venetians? Is it possible that they stay deeper into the land?"
Vasili could hear the men talking in the back to themselves. "Silence!" he yelled at them. "You will now listen to me old man! I will not have you making a mockerry of me in front of my men!"
The old man replied, "Have you not done that to yourself?"
Vasili drew the sword by his right side in fury. Holding it with one hand, he clenched the other in anger. "Stop aswering me with questions! Tell me your name immediately old man, 'lest you find your stomach pierced by steel!"
The old man held his hand up, moving it down slowly to try and calm Vasili down. "Tisk-tisk-tisk. You are very angered indeed, young one. It has been said that once a man has seen hell, he can only see horror from then on, and his mind is filled with anger and hatred." He smiled, trying to bring some light to this tempered young man. "Why don't you step into my home. I will explain everything to you there."
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The Monk's Propehcy
Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
"Please help yourself to something," smiled the monk, his grin crinkling his weathered face. "A nice herbal tea?"
Vasili Demakis rolled his eyes in impatience. "No thankyou."
"Very well then," smiled the priest, putting away the scented herbs.
He placed them in a cracked jar on a small table by the side of his home. It was a very old, decaying house, predating the Ottoman Sultanate. The old orange-tiled roof and whitewashed exterior resembled those of a Greek village in Peleponesia or the islands. Vines covered its crumbling structure and overgrown bushes covered the adjacent garden.
"Father, I do not intend this to be a social visit!" said Vasili under gritted teeth.
The old man rolled his eyes, and grumbled what sounded like not with your demeanour it won't be.
"What was that you said?" asked Vasili.
The old man shook his head quickly, "You'll have to excuse me. I haven't had company here for so long. Ninety years to be exact."
"I'm sorry did you just say ninety years!" exclaimed Vasili.
"Well, that's not entirely true," said the man, Vasili now waning in attention. "I believe a met another man some two years ago. But up until then it was about ninety years, yes."
"Ninety years! That's - that's-" Vasili stammered.
"He was such a curious man, as well," the old man went on. "I believe he was a Greek. What was his name again... Gabriel or something. He was named after an angel that I am sure of."
"What exactly have you been doing here for ninety years old man?" asked Vasili.
"Oh, just meditating and such. Many call me a hermit. Well if they knew I was here they would, anyways..." the man rambled on. "I am not going far enough into my past. I was a monk from Constantinople. Born in Ryazan orginally, though. And well when I was twenty or so I went on a boat across the sea and found this house. That's it."
Vasili was very confused. "So you are telling me you are a Russian monk from Constantinople?"
The monk nodded.
"And then you just decided to leave the city and you found this house?"
He nodded again.
"And what is your name, monk?"
The monk scratched his chin. "Hmmm," he thought. He let out a single laugh. "I seem to have forgotten. No matter, I shall just select a new one for myself. How about you call me Constantine."
Vasili was now extremely confused. Who was this eccentric old loon who claimed to be a hundred-and-ten-year-old monk.
"Say, have their been any news regarding the Byzantine Emperor as of late?" the monk asked, sipping his herbal tea.
Vasili's replied "The Byzantine Empire finally fell some ninety years ago. I presume you just missed it's fall to the Turks when you left the city."
"That's a nice coincidence," smiled the monk. "Then again I seem to think that fate bends towards my favour. Just because the Empire fell doesn't mean that the Emperor doesn't exist."
Ignoring that last comment, Vasili said "I don't understand. You are so close to the Sultan's powerbase in Bursa. How is it that you've only come in contact with one person only in the past ninety years!"
"Like I said fate has a way of bending towards my favour. It was quite an act of fate when that fellow appeared at my home a few years back," the monk said. Vasili listened attentively. "I remember he was trying to get to Mytilene, but his ship was attacked by Venetian galleys and so he had to make a stop farther north. I remember I gave him a few words that might bend fate towards his favour..."
The monk closed his eyes and said,
"Two brothers there once were.
Patriots for the far greater cause.
Yet greed would tear them apart,
One would fall victim to death's claws.
Because of one brother's choice,
Made with blood and jealously.
A sudden change of heart,
Would make their hearts free."
Vasili stared at the monk in amazement. A prophet he thought to himself. This was no eccentric hermit.
"Yes I can still remember those words exactly. Actually I think the man was from Crete to be exact," said the monk, thinking of the man's name.
An angel Vasili thought to himself. From Crete he thought. The lines in the monk's prophecy echoed in his minds. The brothers. The betrayal. How one of them was destined to die because of jealously. The monk was talking about Michael Demakis, Vasili's brother.
"Just remember Vasili, do not march too far inland. There are some, hmmm. Let me see here - two thousand Turkish troops in the region. And make sure your brother's men do not go to far north. Too many Turks in Serbia. Oh, and take this!" said the monk, handing Vasili some herbs. "One of your men was bitten by a snake some five minutes ago. This will ease the stinging," smiled the old prophet.
The Monk's Prophecy
January 10th, 1558Dardanelles, Smyrna Province
"Please help yourself to something," smiled the monk, his grin crinkling his weathered face. "A nice herbal tea?"
Vasili Demakis rolled his eyes in impatience. "No thankyou."
"Very well then," smiled the priest, putting away the scented herbs.
He placed them in a cracked jar on a small table by the side of his home. It was a very old, decaying house, predating the Ottoman Sultanate. The old orange-tiled roof and whitewashed exterior resembled those of a Greek village in Peleponesia or the islands. Vines covered its crumbling structure and overgrown bushes covered the adjacent garden.
"Father, I do not intend this to be a social visit!" said Vasili under gritted teeth.
The old man rolled his eyes, and grumbled what sounded like not with your demeanour it won't be.
"What was that you said?" asked Vasili.
The old man shook his head quickly, "You'll have to excuse me. I haven't had company here for so long. Ninety years to be exact."
"I'm sorry did you just say ninety years!" exclaimed Vasili.
"Well, that's not entirely true," said the man, Vasili now waning in attention. "I believe a met another man some two years ago. But up until then it was about ninety years, yes."
"Ninety years! That's - that's-" Vasili stammered.
"He was such a curious man, as well," the old man went on. "I believe he was a Greek. What was his name again... Gabriel or something. He was named after an angel that I am sure of."
"What exactly have you been doing here for ninety years old man?" asked Vasili.
"Oh, just meditating and such. Many call me a hermit. Well if they knew I was here they would, anyways..." the man rambled on. "I am not going far enough into my past. I was a monk from Constantinople. Born in Ryazan orginally, though. And well when I was twenty or so I went on a boat across the sea and found this house. That's it."
Vasili was very confused. "So you are telling me you are a Russian monk from Constantinople?"
The monk nodded.
"And then you just decided to leave the city and you found this house?"
He nodded again.
"And what is your name, monk?"
The monk scratched his chin. "Hmmm," he thought. He let out a single laugh. "I seem to have forgotten. No matter, I shall just select a new one for myself. How about you call me Constantine."
Vasili was now extremely confused. Who was this eccentric old loon who claimed to be a hundred-and-ten-year-old monk.
"Say, have their been any news regarding the Byzantine Emperor as of late?" the monk asked, sipping his herbal tea.
Vasili's replied "The Byzantine Empire finally fell some ninety years ago. I presume you just missed it's fall to the Turks when you left the city."
"That's a nice coincidence," smiled the monk. "Then again I seem to think that fate bends towards my favour. Just because the Empire fell doesn't mean that the Emperor doesn't exist."
Ignoring that last comment, Vasili said "I don't understand. You are so close to the Sultan's powerbase in Bursa. How is it that you've only come in contact with one person only in the past ninety years!"
"Like I said fate has a way of bending towards my favour. It was quite an act of fate when that fellow appeared at my home a few years back," the monk said. Vasili listened attentively. "I remember he was trying to get to Mytilene, but his ship was attacked by Venetian galleys and so he had to make a stop farther north. I remember I gave him a few words that might bend fate towards his favour..."
The monk closed his eyes and said,
"Two brothers there once were.
Patriots for the far greater cause.
Yet greed would tear them apart,
One would fall victim to death's claws.
Because of one brother's choice,
Made with blood and jealously.
A sudden change of heart,
Would make their hearts free."
Vasili stared at the monk in amazement. A prophet he thought to himself. This was no eccentric hermit.
"Yes I can still remember those words exactly. Actually I think the man was from Crete to be exact," said the monk, thinking of the man's name.
An angel Vasili thought to himself. From Crete he thought. The lines in the monk's prophecy echoed in his minds. The brothers. The betrayal. How one of them was destined to die because of jealously. The monk was talking about Michael Demakis, Vasili's brother.
"Just remember Vasili, do not march too far inland. There are some, hmmm. Let me see here - two thousand Turkish troops in the region. And make sure your brother's men do not go to far north. Too many Turks in Serbia. Oh, and take this!" said the monk, handing Vasili some herbs. "One of your men was bitten by a snake some five minutes ago. This will ease the stinging," smiled the old prophet.
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... Could it be the rebirth of the Roman Empire?_Arcadian_ said:You don't want me to spill any secrets about the AAR's ending do you?
...and yeah its not their capital.
Great AAR. I wonder who that monk/prophet is...
Calanctus - Thanks for the feedback. Of course I'm not at liberty to divulge my future plans
Conquer and kill man
Seriously I am drunk and should not be reading, I feel that is really happening.
Seriously I am drunk and should not be reading, I feel that is really happening.
Onto Constantinople
Constantinople, Thrace
Across the sea from Athens and Peleponesia, the Greeks were besieging Smyrna, the largest Greek city in Asia Minor. Vasili Demakis had taken a scouting crew north (which included Dimitri Trivolas and Michael from Chios) to spot any enemy ship movements. However, he found an old monk over a hundred years old who's prophecy stated that either Vasili or his brother would die because of one's greed and jealousy...
And the Greeks under Michael Demakis (Vasili's brother) had finally taken Macedonia after over a year of sieging Thessaloniki. They pushed on forward to the Second Rome, to Constantinople...
On a gentle hill nearby Constantinople, four Greek officers were staring out at the city's walls. A telescope wasn't even needed to notice the thick, monstrous walls of Constantinople. The city was well-defended with strong fortifications twice as strong as those the Greeks encountered in Thessaloniki or Smyrna. Strong towers were positioned along the perimeter as well, which would make an assault on the city impossible.
Michael Demakis closed his telescope, cursing to himself in Greek.
"What it is Commander?" asked Stavropoulos, the youngest of the officers.
Michael shot him a commanding glare. "We won't get very far in the siege without cannons."
"Like the Italians use," pointed out Thanos.
Michael nodded. "I remember that the Venetians possessed excellent cannons when I back on Crete. They mainly used them on their ships, or for taking out a small coastal fortress. But I daresay they would work just as well on taking a city."
"But we do not possess such cannons, Commander Demakis," said Kouli. "Nor do we have the industry or technology to construct them."
"And an assault is definately out of the question!" said Michael, clarify what everyone else was thinking. He sighed. "I suppose we shall have to use the old siege equipment we've always had."
"Commander, what if we try and cut the Turks off from supplies in the city," said Thanos.
"No good, with their massive fleet of galleys and our poor navy, they'll control the seas indefinately," sighed Demakis. "I guess we'll have to use our old tactics again on much bigger walls."
Stavropoulos finally managed to speak, "Commander, I know that we must use our old siege weapons, but we modernize certain aspects of the weapons and improve our tactics-"
"No! I don't have time to experiment! We will take Constantinople the old-fashioned way!" shouted Demakis, not letting Stavropoulos finish talking.
Kouli noted what Stavropoulos said, and seeing as Demakis wasn't listening, he tried to put them in other words. "Wait a minute, Commander. If we can improve our tactics and overall strategy here, we can take this city substantially faster."
"Go on," said Demakis.
"Stavropoulos, you said you knew of some ways..." said Kouli, elbowing him in the stomach.
Stavropoulos grinned. "Oh, yes. The Turks we captured in Thessaloniki could be persuaded to divuldge any intelligence about the city's defense. Also, we managed to gain control of some maps of the city's defenses from the garrison. It's a simple matter of besieging the more unfortified and less defended positions, as well as trying to bombard the position of the Turks barracks."
Michael demakis scratched his chin. "Hmmmm," he began. "I suppose that is an acceptable suggestion. And our allies in Austria may be able to help us improve our weaponry as well... Alright, we'll go with that plan. Stavropoulos, get as much information from the prisoners as possible. Thanos, I need you to relay a messenger to the Austrians as soon as possible. Constantinople shall once again become a beacon of Christendom and the greatest city of the Greeks."
Michael grinned. When I take Constantinople he thought to himself I will become the greatest Greek general in history. Not even Alexander the Great nor Belisarius will be able to match my fame. His dreams were falling into place, and his fame would soon usurp that of his brother Vasili's. And with all of his power, he would ensure that the Monk's Prophecy that he heard two years ago would mean that his brother, and not he, would be the one who died.
Onto Constantinople
April 20th, 1558Constantinople, Thrace
Across the sea from Athens and Peleponesia, the Greeks were besieging Smyrna, the largest Greek city in Asia Minor. Vasili Demakis had taken a scouting crew north (which included Dimitri Trivolas and Michael from Chios) to spot any enemy ship movements. However, he found an old monk over a hundred years old who's prophecy stated that either Vasili or his brother would die because of one's greed and jealousy...
And the Greeks under Michael Demakis (Vasili's brother) had finally taken Macedonia after over a year of sieging Thessaloniki. They pushed on forward to the Second Rome, to Constantinople...
On a gentle hill nearby Constantinople, four Greek officers were staring out at the city's walls. A telescope wasn't even needed to notice the thick, monstrous walls of Constantinople. The city was well-defended with strong fortifications twice as strong as those the Greeks encountered in Thessaloniki or Smyrna. Strong towers were positioned along the perimeter as well, which would make an assault on the city impossible.
Michael Demakis closed his telescope, cursing to himself in Greek.
"What it is Commander?" asked Stavropoulos, the youngest of the officers.
Michael shot him a commanding glare. "We won't get very far in the siege without cannons."
"Like the Italians use," pointed out Thanos.
Michael nodded. "I remember that the Venetians possessed excellent cannons when I back on Crete. They mainly used them on their ships, or for taking out a small coastal fortress. But I daresay they would work just as well on taking a city."
"But we do not possess such cannons, Commander Demakis," said Kouli. "Nor do we have the industry or technology to construct them."
"And an assault is definately out of the question!" said Michael, clarify what everyone else was thinking. He sighed. "I suppose we shall have to use the old siege equipment we've always had."
"Commander, what if we try and cut the Turks off from supplies in the city," said Thanos.
"No good, with their massive fleet of galleys and our poor navy, they'll control the seas indefinately," sighed Demakis. "I guess we'll have to use our old tactics again on much bigger walls."
Stavropoulos finally managed to speak, "Commander, I know that we must use our old siege weapons, but we modernize certain aspects of the weapons and improve our tactics-"
"No! I don't have time to experiment! We will take Constantinople the old-fashioned way!" shouted Demakis, not letting Stavropoulos finish talking.
Kouli noted what Stavropoulos said, and seeing as Demakis wasn't listening, he tried to put them in other words. "Wait a minute, Commander. If we can improve our tactics and overall strategy here, we can take this city substantially faster."
"Go on," said Demakis.
"Stavropoulos, you said you knew of some ways..." said Kouli, elbowing him in the stomach.
Stavropoulos grinned. "Oh, yes. The Turks we captured in Thessaloniki could be persuaded to divuldge any intelligence about the city's defense. Also, we managed to gain control of some maps of the city's defenses from the garrison. It's a simple matter of besieging the more unfortified and less defended positions, as well as trying to bombard the position of the Turks barracks."
Michael demakis scratched his chin. "Hmmmm," he began. "I suppose that is an acceptable suggestion. And our allies in Austria may be able to help us improve our weaponry as well... Alright, we'll go with that plan. Stavropoulos, get as much information from the prisoners as possible. Thanos, I need you to relay a messenger to the Austrians as soon as possible. Constantinople shall once again become a beacon of Christendom and the greatest city of the Greeks."
Michael grinned. When I take Constantinople he thought to himself I will become the greatest Greek general in history. Not even Alexander the Great nor Belisarius will be able to match my fame. His dreams were falling into place, and his fame would soon usurp that of his brother Vasili's. And with all of his power, he would ensure that the Monk's Prophecy that he heard two years ago would mean that his brother, and not he, would be the one who died.
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The Battle of Beograd
River Danube
The horse neighed wildly, trying to gain the rider's attention. The mighty Danube flowed in front of it, scaring the horse and forcing it to go no further. The burly and tall Turkish man on it tried to calm his steed, a pureblood Arabian stallion worth a king's ransom. His coat was simple crimson, blazing in the sunlight, while he wore a simple white turban with an emerald placed on it. A simple Ottoman sword lay at his side, stained with the blood of his enemies. He was no ordinary Turkish officer of high stature, nor was he an average nobleman. Sokullu Mehmet, the greatest of the Sultan's generals stood in front of the River Danube, pausing to here from his scouts.
An anxious scout raced on his horse to the general, exciting about the news he was about to deliver.
"O, Great Sokullu Mehmet, finest General of the Ottoman Sultan, Allah has found a way for us across the river," said the messenger. "Less than a mile down river, in a town not far from here. We can cross it southwest and join with the Sulatn!"
The big Turkish man smiled. "Indeed. We must make haste! There is little time to talk. If we hurry then we may just be in time-"
The horse let out a strong neigh. "Heeeiyaaa!" shouted Sokullu to his steed.
He rode back to where the rest of the troops were gathered. A vast assortment of Turkish soldiers, Janissaries, and horsemen were gathered. Banners were held up high displaying the army divisions, and the magnificent sight of the Turkish war mahcine was too much for an enemy army to handle.
Sokullu did not even have the time to dismount his steed and began to talk to the army while still atop his Arabian stallion. "The scouts tell me that there is a bridge not far from here," he said loudly so all of the officers could hear him. "We must make haste, there is still time for us! I want the horsemen to leave immediately with me, and the Janissaries to move as soon as possible. Make sure the Turkish soldiers leave in due time, we can stall the enemy long enough for the Army to arrive. Heeeiyaaaa!"
Sokullu Mehmet rode now, hoping that he could manage to get enough troops across the Danube in time for the rest of his men to arrive. The fate of the Empire was at stake...
__________
May 10th, 1558
Beograd, Serbia
Suleyman I Kanuni, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, was the conqueror of Egypt, the hammer that smashed the Romanians, and the great visionary of the Ottoman Empire. Draped in fine golden and silken robes, covered in jewels of all kinds, and possessing a magnitude of pure golden daggers and swords, he brought an unimaginable wealth onto the battlefield. Yet now his accomplishments and his wealth were void, dwarfed by the power of his foe.
The Austrian cannons pounded at the Turkish army, occasionally taking out a wall or a building or two from the city of Beogard. The Turks held on to the city desperately, despite the numerical superiority of their enemy. Austrian infantry advanced into sections of the city, forcing the Turks farther and farther back. The Austrian cavalry was now moving once again and the Sultan's worst nightmares were coming true.
What turned out as an assumed flank on the city's eastern side was now becoming a complete encirclement of the city. The Ottoman Empire had yet to defeat the Austrians, nor their upstart Greek allies at that. The Venetians, who they had mauled easily, were nothing compared to the well-disciplined Austrian army. But now the Turks did not just face a another defeat. The Sultan was in the city leading his forces, and it seemed that the Austrians were eyeing to get their hands on him.
He looked out at the eastern part of the city's outskirts. Infantry? he thought. The Austrians had now bought in back up infantry, and by the looks of it more cavalry. Looking farther back he noticed more and more enemy troops. Farther than he could make out. Allah has abandoned me he thought.
Then he heard it. The thunderous hooves of the Austrian cavalry moving back, and their infantry stopped advancing within the city. Are they stopping the assault? he thought. Then came another round of cannon fire, and Suleyman expected this one to be right on the fortress.
BOOOOOOOM!
Austrian cavalry were smashed against the cannonballs, followed by a sea of smoke. More of their horses and men fell, beginning a monumental screech of horses. What is going on? he thought to himself. He peered into his telescope again. There were no Austrian reinforcements, but the Turkish army moving in to save army trapped in Beograd.
"Praise Allah!" he screamed, the sound echoeing off the central fortress into the city.
Turkish infantry swarmed into the surrounding area, creating a thick layer of smoke. Their guns fired and cannons fired, leaving more and more Austrians dead. The Austrian cannons easily took out giant swathes of massed Ottomans, but it didn't matter. For every fallen Austrian, the Turks could afford to lose three men. Turkish infantry, armed with shock weapons, continued to charge at the Austrian cannon positions, while the Janissaries blasted at the enemy. Turkish cavalry now began to swoop into the city, cleansing it of the stench of Austrians.
"Move out of the fortress! We are to push the Western dogs out of the city!" Suleyman ordered. Turks now charged out of the central fortress, as their cavalry swooped in to trap the Austrian invaders.
And after the last Austrians had fled or died and the smoke had cleared, the Turks proudly cheered for their great victory over the Austrian dogs.
__________
Suleyman I Kanuni
"Sokullu, you are a great service to the Empire and a great warrior for Allah!" the Sultan smiled.
"Think nothing of it my Sultan. For you are God's representative on Earth. And by serving you I have served Allah and brought victory for our mighty nation," Sokullu Mehmet said.
"Too modest you are, Sokullu. Allah must surely save a spot for you in heaven!"
"Please, you are too kind Sultan," he said. "But I also have grave news from Constantinople."
"What is it?" asked the Sultan.
"The Greek rebels have begun a siege of the city-"
"You worry far too much, Sokullu. Yet your fears are well-founded. It will take long for them to take the city. In six months time, we shall crush the Greeks once and for all. At the very walls of Constantinople!" he exclaimed.
"Praise Allah and praise you O Exalted Sultan, God's representative on Earth!"
The Battle of Beograd
May 10th, 1558River Danube
The horse neighed wildly, trying to gain the rider's attention. The mighty Danube flowed in front of it, scaring the horse and forcing it to go no further. The burly and tall Turkish man on it tried to calm his steed, a pureblood Arabian stallion worth a king's ransom. His coat was simple crimson, blazing in the sunlight, while he wore a simple white turban with an emerald placed on it. A simple Ottoman sword lay at his side, stained with the blood of his enemies. He was no ordinary Turkish officer of high stature, nor was he an average nobleman. Sokullu Mehmet, the greatest of the Sultan's generals stood in front of the River Danube, pausing to here from his scouts.
An anxious scout raced on his horse to the general, exciting about the news he was about to deliver.
"O, Great Sokullu Mehmet, finest General of the Ottoman Sultan, Allah has found a way for us across the river," said the messenger. "Less than a mile down river, in a town not far from here. We can cross it southwest and join with the Sulatn!"
The big Turkish man smiled. "Indeed. We must make haste! There is little time to talk. If we hurry then we may just be in time-"
The horse let out a strong neigh. "Heeeiyaaa!" shouted Sokullu to his steed.
He rode back to where the rest of the troops were gathered. A vast assortment of Turkish soldiers, Janissaries, and horsemen were gathered. Banners were held up high displaying the army divisions, and the magnificent sight of the Turkish war mahcine was too much for an enemy army to handle.
Sokullu did not even have the time to dismount his steed and began to talk to the army while still atop his Arabian stallion. "The scouts tell me that there is a bridge not far from here," he said loudly so all of the officers could hear him. "We must make haste, there is still time for us! I want the horsemen to leave immediately with me, and the Janissaries to move as soon as possible. Make sure the Turkish soldiers leave in due time, we can stall the enemy long enough for the Army to arrive. Heeeiyaaaa!"
Sokullu Mehmet rode now, hoping that he could manage to get enough troops across the Danube in time for the rest of his men to arrive. The fate of the Empire was at stake...
__________
May 10th, 1558
Beograd, Serbia
Suleyman I Kanuni, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, was the conqueror of Egypt, the hammer that smashed the Romanians, and the great visionary of the Ottoman Empire. Draped in fine golden and silken robes, covered in jewels of all kinds, and possessing a magnitude of pure golden daggers and swords, he brought an unimaginable wealth onto the battlefield. Yet now his accomplishments and his wealth were void, dwarfed by the power of his foe.
The Austrian cannons pounded at the Turkish army, occasionally taking out a wall or a building or two from the city of Beogard. The Turks held on to the city desperately, despite the numerical superiority of their enemy. Austrian infantry advanced into sections of the city, forcing the Turks farther and farther back. The Austrian cavalry was now moving once again and the Sultan's worst nightmares were coming true.
What turned out as an assumed flank on the city's eastern side was now becoming a complete encirclement of the city. The Ottoman Empire had yet to defeat the Austrians, nor their upstart Greek allies at that. The Venetians, who they had mauled easily, were nothing compared to the well-disciplined Austrian army. But now the Turks did not just face a another defeat. The Sultan was in the city leading his forces, and it seemed that the Austrians were eyeing to get their hands on him.
He looked out at the eastern part of the city's outskirts. Infantry? he thought. The Austrians had now bought in back up infantry, and by the looks of it more cavalry. Looking farther back he noticed more and more enemy troops. Farther than he could make out. Allah has abandoned me he thought.
Then he heard it. The thunderous hooves of the Austrian cavalry moving back, and their infantry stopped advancing within the city. Are they stopping the assault? he thought. Then came another round of cannon fire, and Suleyman expected this one to be right on the fortress.
BOOOOOOOM!
Austrian cavalry were smashed against the cannonballs, followed by a sea of smoke. More of their horses and men fell, beginning a monumental screech of horses. What is going on? he thought to himself. He peered into his telescope again. There were no Austrian reinforcements, but the Turkish army moving in to save army trapped in Beograd.
"Praise Allah!" he screamed, the sound echoeing off the central fortress into the city.
Turkish infantry swarmed into the surrounding area, creating a thick layer of smoke. Their guns fired and cannons fired, leaving more and more Austrians dead. The Austrian cannons easily took out giant swathes of massed Ottomans, but it didn't matter. For every fallen Austrian, the Turks could afford to lose three men. Turkish infantry, armed with shock weapons, continued to charge at the Austrian cannon positions, while the Janissaries blasted at the enemy. Turkish cavalry now began to swoop into the city, cleansing it of the stench of Austrians.
"Move out of the fortress! We are to push the Western dogs out of the city!" Suleyman ordered. Turks now charged out of the central fortress, as their cavalry swooped in to trap the Austrian invaders.
And after the last Austrians had fled or died and the smoke had cleared, the Turks proudly cheered for their great victory over the Austrian dogs.
__________
Suleyman I Kanuni
"Sokullu, you are a great service to the Empire and a great warrior for Allah!" the Sultan smiled.
"Think nothing of it my Sultan. For you are God's representative on Earth. And by serving you I have served Allah and brought victory for our mighty nation," Sokullu Mehmet said.
"Too modest you are, Sokullu. Allah must surely save a spot for you in heaven!"
"Please, you are too kind Sultan," he said. "But I also have grave news from Constantinople."
"What is it?" asked the Sultan.
"The Greek rebels have begun a siege of the city-"
"You worry far too much, Sokullu. Yet your fears are well-founded. It will take long for them to take the city. In six months time, we shall crush the Greeks once and for all. At the very walls of Constantinople!" he exclaimed.
"Praise Allah and praise you O Exalted Sultan, God's representative on Earth!"
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Yeah, Beograd, how many times have the Turks there actually smashed Christian armies? It's all the Austrian general's fault; he should have chosen, umm... Mohacs or the Blackbirdfield or something. :rofl:
But a pity to hear that the Turks' main distraction for your pocket-empire is gone. It'll get a lot harder now, won't it? IIRC, during Suleyman Kanuni's reign the Ottomans were at the height of their power. Are they in this AAR?
But a pity to hear that the Turks' main distraction for your pocket-empire is gone. It'll get a lot harder now, won't it? IIRC, during Suleyman Kanuni's reign the Ottomans were at the height of their power. Are they in this AAR?
I believe that they were. They were on the move in Hungary. By 1600 though, the Austrians could finally push them back. BTW, Doesn't Suleyman I Kanuni mean Suleyman the Magnificent? Oh, and he's taken practically all of Asia Minor and Egypt as well.
PS. Thanks again for the feedback TheBee!
PS. Thanks again for the feedback TheBee!
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The Last March
The city of Smyrna
The city of Smyrna, the jewel of Asia Minor, the largest of the eastern Greek cities now lay in the hands of Hellas. Its ancient beauty and its wonderful wealth glistened under the Aegean sun. The Turks had brutally oppressed the Greeks and Christians in the city, forcing others to adopt their customs and convert to their religion. However, freedom and victory blessed the citizens of Smyrna, and the Greeks were winning their war of liberation.
KNOCK KNOCK!
Several armed soldiers opened the doors. They warmly welcomed Vasili Demakis, who coldly did not return their welcomes. He removed his rain-soaked cloak, and placed it on the table. The building was a solid-made brick structure with many rafters overhead. Presumably an old tavern, the building was littered with tables and chairs, and had a second floor with more tables. The floors creaked as Vasili walked over them, showing their age and curent condition.
"So, what news of my brother in Constantinople?" asked Vasili, getting to the point immediately.
"Well his forces have nearly taken the city," said one soldier.
"What?! So soon!" yelled Vasili.
"Well he received some updated siege weapons from the Austrians and has softened a key point-"
"Make plans for the army to move into Constantinople immediately!" angrily thundered Vasili.
"But - but -" studdered another soldier. "He's likely to take the city within a month's time-"
"ONE MONTH!" roared Vasili, his blood rising in anger. He was not going to let his brother have all of the glory of taking Constantinople. His arrival would outshine his brother Michael Demakis' past military victories in Thrace and Macedonia, and all of the glory would be Vasili's.
Vasili scratched in chin, thinking to himself. "We leave the city in five days time," he said plainly.
"Five days?!?!" shouted the exasperated soldiers.
"But Vasili, we will never be able to mobili-"
"Five days!" Vasili said sternly. "Or you will all be stripped of your ranks."
The men's faces turned red with anger. All of their restraint was used to prevent themselves from speaking out of line.
"Are we in an agreeance?" smiled Vasili bitterly.
The men nodded according.
"Excellent," laughed Vasili. "I don't want my poor brother to have to walk into Constantinople all alone."
__________
April 21st, 1559
Somewhere in rural Wallachia
Turkish cavalry and Janissaries try to cover their retreating forces.
Sokullu Mehmet bitterly gritted his teeth. He could see the Austrians moving forward in the background. The Turkish army was retreating, and was burning everything that they passed by. Sokullu could make out several spires of smoke, marking destroyed villages. The fields were charred with black embers, and the bodies of Turks were scattered on the Romanian countryside.
Sokullu cursed loudly in Turkish.
"The infidels are stronger than we thought, Sokullu," said Sultan Suleyman I Kanuni coming behind Sokullu Mehmet on horseback.
"My Sultan, I did not see you," said Sokullu, taken aback by the Sultan.
Ignoring Sokullu's last comments, Suleyman said, "Tell me, do you think that Allah has abondoned us in our greatest hour of need?"
Sokullu frowned. "My Sultan, Allah has not abandoned us. He would never abondon his greatest servant, his Sultan. You have brought many of the infidels to the way of Islam. I see no way how he could abondon you-"
"Look around you!" the Sultan shouted. "See our armies retreat from the Germanic dogs! How do infidels defeat the righteous soldiers of Islam!"
"My Sultan, perhaps Allah has blessed us. He has given us the opportunity to withdraw from a fight against the Austrians, so our men are not killed for no reason," said Sokullu, trying to calm down Suleyman.
Suleyman smiled. "You are right, as always Sokullu. You are a great general and a true friend. I will arrange a peace with the Western dogs, so that we may crush the Christian rebels. The Romanians and Greeks are far too troublesome. A thorn in the Empire's side that must be cut!"
Sokullu grinned widely. "Excellent choice, my Sultan. Too long have we delayed the invasion of Hellas."
"The Greeks will be destroyed once and for all. To Constantinople..."
The Last March
April 21st, 1559The city of Smyrna
The city of Smyrna, the jewel of Asia Minor, the largest of the eastern Greek cities now lay in the hands of Hellas. Its ancient beauty and its wonderful wealth glistened under the Aegean sun. The Turks had brutally oppressed the Greeks and Christians in the city, forcing others to adopt their customs and convert to their religion. However, freedom and victory blessed the citizens of Smyrna, and the Greeks were winning their war of liberation.
KNOCK KNOCK!
Several armed soldiers opened the doors. They warmly welcomed Vasili Demakis, who coldly did not return their welcomes. He removed his rain-soaked cloak, and placed it on the table. The building was a solid-made brick structure with many rafters overhead. Presumably an old tavern, the building was littered with tables and chairs, and had a second floor with more tables. The floors creaked as Vasili walked over them, showing their age and curent condition.
"So, what news of my brother in Constantinople?" asked Vasili, getting to the point immediately.
"Well his forces have nearly taken the city," said one soldier.
"What?! So soon!" yelled Vasili.
"Well he received some updated siege weapons from the Austrians and has softened a key point-"
"Make plans for the army to move into Constantinople immediately!" angrily thundered Vasili.
"But - but -" studdered another soldier. "He's likely to take the city within a month's time-"
"ONE MONTH!" roared Vasili, his blood rising in anger. He was not going to let his brother have all of the glory of taking Constantinople. His arrival would outshine his brother Michael Demakis' past military victories in Thrace and Macedonia, and all of the glory would be Vasili's.
Vasili scratched in chin, thinking to himself. "We leave the city in five days time," he said plainly.
"Five days?!?!" shouted the exasperated soldiers.
"But Vasili, we will never be able to mobili-"
"Five days!" Vasili said sternly. "Or you will all be stripped of your ranks."
The men's faces turned red with anger. All of their restraint was used to prevent themselves from speaking out of line.
"Are we in an agreeance?" smiled Vasili bitterly.
The men nodded according.
"Excellent," laughed Vasili. "I don't want my poor brother to have to walk into Constantinople all alone."
__________
April 21st, 1559
Somewhere in rural Wallachia
Turkish cavalry and Janissaries try to cover their retreating forces.
Sokullu Mehmet bitterly gritted his teeth. He could see the Austrians moving forward in the background. The Turkish army was retreating, and was burning everything that they passed by. Sokullu could make out several spires of smoke, marking destroyed villages. The fields were charred with black embers, and the bodies of Turks were scattered on the Romanian countryside.
Sokullu cursed loudly in Turkish.
"The infidels are stronger than we thought, Sokullu," said Sultan Suleyman I Kanuni coming behind Sokullu Mehmet on horseback.
"My Sultan, I did not see you," said Sokullu, taken aback by the Sultan.
Ignoring Sokullu's last comments, Suleyman said, "Tell me, do you think that Allah has abondoned us in our greatest hour of need?"
Sokullu frowned. "My Sultan, Allah has not abandoned us. He would never abondon his greatest servant, his Sultan. You have brought many of the infidels to the way of Islam. I see no way how he could abondon you-"
"Look around you!" the Sultan shouted. "See our armies retreat from the Germanic dogs! How do infidels defeat the righteous soldiers of Islam!"
"My Sultan, perhaps Allah has blessed us. He has given us the opportunity to withdraw from a fight against the Austrians, so our men are not killed for no reason," said Sokullu, trying to calm down Suleyman.
Suleyman smiled. "You are right, as always Sokullu. You are a great general and a true friend. I will arrange a peace with the Western dogs, so that we may crush the Christian rebels. The Romanians and Greeks are far too troublesome. A thorn in the Empire's side that must be cut!"
Sokullu grinned widely. "Excellent choice, my Sultan. Too long have we delayed the invasion of Hellas."
"The Greeks will be destroyed once and for all. To Constantinople..."
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The Last Battle
Outside Constantinople
"Commander Demakis! We've made a breach in the city's walls!" shouted a breathless messenger, gasping for air. "We only need widen the breech and the city is ours!"
Commander Michael Demakis grinned. This was all to perfect. He would have the glory of taking Constantinople, while his brothers feats of heroism would be long forgotten. "Excellent, we need to fully utilize this breech."
The Greek siege equipment pounded at the walls of Constantinople, hoping to expand on their tiny breech in the city's walls. Hellas would soon gain control of Constantinople once again...
Thunder began sounding. Louder. Louder. Until the entire sieging army could hear it. The hooves of thousands of horses thundered and boomed against the Thracian hillside.
"The Turks are coming! The Turks are coming!" screamed several men, running towards the army encampment.
Men screamed and ran wildly around the camp, grabbing their weapons and preparing for the coming clash between forces.
"Damn!" Michael swore under his breath.
The Turks moved swifty towards the city, like a hovering demon, zooming in on its victims. Janissaries, Turkish cavalry, Bulgarians, and even the occasional Egyption horseman drenched the army in a cloud of Arabic warcries. The Turk's numbers were greater than the Greeks; 12,000 men to 11,000. And to tip the scales in the Turks' favour, the Sultan himself, Suleyman I Kanuni would engage in the battle as well.
Michael was peering into his telescope and saw him. A tall, somewhat pudgy-faced man, covered in golden and silk robes. His jeweled weapons glistened beneath the heavy sun. "Damn!" Vasili cursed again. The Sultan was here, and he so rarely lost a battle against numerically inferior foes.
__________
May 1st, 1559
Outside Constantinople
Vasili Demakis and his cavalry charged against the wind, desperately trying to reach Constantinople. Vasili hoped his brother would not be able to take Constantinople before he arrived. He would be damned if he would let him take all the glory in this war. He ordered the entire army from Smyrna to ride to Constantinople, horseman and infantry alike. Vasili thought This is going to be my victory aswell. If he took all the glory then like the prophecy said I may be the dead brother-
Then he saw it.
The Turkish army and the Greek army pitted in a fierce battle. Janissaries, horseman, archers, Greek cavalry, infantry - the battle for Constantinople.
The last battle.
Vasili's army poured through the Thracian hillside. 7,000-strong Greeks racing for the gates of Constantinople. Cheering "For Hellas" and "For King Zimisces" they swarmed towards the heated battle. The Turks pulled back a bit from their southern position to avoid a flank by the new Greek reinforcements. It proved very successful. The Turks managed to keep their upper hand.
"Archers Fire!" yelled several Greek officers.
Greek arrows barraged the Turkish infantry, causing many to fall back. The Greek heavy infantry pushed up to the front battle lines. The line was now a semi-circle from the city's walls to the southern hills. The heavy infantry put up a stiff resistance to the Turks, who had little or no armor.
Orders were blasted in Turkish.
The Ottoman infantry moved back. The momentary thought of victory to the Greeks ended as Turkish janissaries, slaves trained in the art of war, poured a thick layer of gunpowder smoke over the field. Greeks began falling like blades of grass to a mighty wind.
The Greek cavalry blazened forwards, cutting down Ottoman infantry and Janissaries, who screamed for mercy before being hacked to death by Greek swords.
The Turks retaliated, sending in their cavalry as well. Their swiftness compensated for their lack of armor, as they zoomed down the field through the battle line into the Greek army.
The battle was now devoid of any distinguishable battle line, and a full-scale hand-to-hand battle erupted.
__________
May 1st, 1559
Outside Constantinople
Vasili saw him there, watching the battle innocently. He raced to the back of the Turkish lines, eager to finish off the Queen Bee. The Sultan would fall by Vasili's sword.
Suleyman felt a cold feeling piercing his stomach. A sword. A Greek sword. "Allah, I thank you for blessing me victory and granting me victories over the infidels," he said, panting for air. "I am just sad that I would not see the battle end..."
Vasili Demakis laughed. "Your God cannot save you now!" He laughed some more. "See how the Great Sultan dies to a Christian Infidel!" He laughed some more.
Sokullu Mehmet's face turned red. He screamed in Turkish. "For Allah and for the Sultan!" He reached out and grabbed a pistol. An ivory pistol covered in rubies now pointed at Vasili Demakis. "Die you Western dog!"
The blackness of the pistol's interior exploded with a burst of gunpowder. Vasili was expecting death now. Let the angels take me to heaven he thought. I was greedy and had to kill the Sultan. Now like the prophecy said I will die.
Michael Demakis, Vasili's brother, lay in front of him. His chest was drenched in a thick layer of blood. He gave his life to save his brother. Then it hit Vasili:
"...Two brothers there once were...
...Yet greed would tear them apart,
One would fall victim to death's claws...
...Because of one brother's choice,
Made with blood and jealously.
A sudden change of heart...
Because of Vasili's jealously of Michael and his need to kill the Sultan for only more glory... his brother had died saving him.
Vasili's mind went blank. His sword, soaked in the blood of the Sultan was clenched tightly in his hand. He threw it, hoping to take his anger out on Sokullu.
Sokullu Mehmet held his stomach tightly. It gushed with blood. He pulled out Vasili's sword in anguishing pain. "I die for Allah!" he said before he died.
The battle was finally over. The Greeks had taken Constantinople, and the prophecy was fulfilled.
The Last Battle
May 1st, 1559Outside Constantinople
"Commander Demakis! We've made a breach in the city's walls!" shouted a breathless messenger, gasping for air. "We only need widen the breech and the city is ours!"
Commander Michael Demakis grinned. This was all to perfect. He would have the glory of taking Constantinople, while his brothers feats of heroism would be long forgotten. "Excellent, we need to fully utilize this breech."
The Greek siege equipment pounded at the walls of Constantinople, hoping to expand on their tiny breech in the city's walls. Hellas would soon gain control of Constantinople once again...
Thunder began sounding. Louder. Louder. Until the entire sieging army could hear it. The hooves of thousands of horses thundered and boomed against the Thracian hillside.
"The Turks are coming! The Turks are coming!" screamed several men, running towards the army encampment.
Men screamed and ran wildly around the camp, grabbing their weapons and preparing for the coming clash between forces.
"Damn!" Michael swore under his breath.
The Turks moved swifty towards the city, like a hovering demon, zooming in on its victims. Janissaries, Turkish cavalry, Bulgarians, and even the occasional Egyption horseman drenched the army in a cloud of Arabic warcries. The Turk's numbers were greater than the Greeks; 12,000 men to 11,000. And to tip the scales in the Turks' favour, the Sultan himself, Suleyman I Kanuni would engage in the battle as well.
Michael was peering into his telescope and saw him. A tall, somewhat pudgy-faced man, covered in golden and silk robes. His jeweled weapons glistened beneath the heavy sun. "Damn!" Vasili cursed again. The Sultan was here, and he so rarely lost a battle against numerically inferior foes.
__________
May 1st, 1559
Outside Constantinople
Vasili Demakis and his cavalry charged against the wind, desperately trying to reach Constantinople. Vasili hoped his brother would not be able to take Constantinople before he arrived. He would be damned if he would let him take all the glory in this war. He ordered the entire army from Smyrna to ride to Constantinople, horseman and infantry alike. Vasili thought This is going to be my victory aswell. If he took all the glory then like the prophecy said I may be the dead brother-
Then he saw it.
The Turkish army and the Greek army pitted in a fierce battle. Janissaries, horseman, archers, Greek cavalry, infantry - the battle for Constantinople.
The last battle.
Vasili's army poured through the Thracian hillside. 7,000-strong Greeks racing for the gates of Constantinople. Cheering "For Hellas" and "For King Zimisces" they swarmed towards the heated battle. The Turks pulled back a bit from their southern position to avoid a flank by the new Greek reinforcements. It proved very successful. The Turks managed to keep their upper hand.
"Archers Fire!" yelled several Greek officers.
Greek arrows barraged the Turkish infantry, causing many to fall back. The Greek heavy infantry pushed up to the front battle lines. The line was now a semi-circle from the city's walls to the southern hills. The heavy infantry put up a stiff resistance to the Turks, who had little or no armor.
Orders were blasted in Turkish.
The Ottoman infantry moved back. The momentary thought of victory to the Greeks ended as Turkish janissaries, slaves trained in the art of war, poured a thick layer of gunpowder smoke over the field. Greeks began falling like blades of grass to a mighty wind.
The Greek cavalry blazened forwards, cutting down Ottoman infantry and Janissaries, who screamed for mercy before being hacked to death by Greek swords.
The Turks retaliated, sending in their cavalry as well. Their swiftness compensated for their lack of armor, as they zoomed down the field through the battle line into the Greek army.
The battle was now devoid of any distinguishable battle line, and a full-scale hand-to-hand battle erupted.
__________
May 1st, 1559
Outside Constantinople
Vasili saw him there, watching the battle innocently. He raced to the back of the Turkish lines, eager to finish off the Queen Bee. The Sultan would fall by Vasili's sword.
Suleyman felt a cold feeling piercing his stomach. A sword. A Greek sword. "Allah, I thank you for blessing me victory and granting me victories over the infidels," he said, panting for air. "I am just sad that I would not see the battle end..."
Vasili Demakis laughed. "Your God cannot save you now!" He laughed some more. "See how the Great Sultan dies to a Christian Infidel!" He laughed some more.
Sokullu Mehmet's face turned red. He screamed in Turkish. "For Allah and for the Sultan!" He reached out and grabbed a pistol. An ivory pistol covered in rubies now pointed at Vasili Demakis. "Die you Western dog!"
The blackness of the pistol's interior exploded with a burst of gunpowder. Vasili was expecting death now. Let the angels take me to heaven he thought. I was greedy and had to kill the Sultan. Now like the prophecy said I will die.
Michael Demakis, Vasili's brother, lay in front of him. His chest was drenched in a thick layer of blood. He gave his life to save his brother. Then it hit Vasili:
"...Two brothers there once were...
...Yet greed would tear them apart,
One would fall victim to death's claws...
...Because of one brother's choice,
Made with blood and jealously.
A sudden change of heart...
Because of Vasili's jealously of Michael and his need to kill the Sultan for only more glory... his brother had died saving him.
Vasili's mind went blank. His sword, soaked in the blood of the Sultan was clenched tightly in his hand. He threw it, hoping to take his anger out on Sokullu.
Sokullu Mehmet held his stomach tightly. It gushed with blood. He pulled out Vasili's sword in anguishing pain. "I die for Allah!" he said before he died.
The battle was finally over. The Greeks had taken Constantinople, and the prophecy was fulfilled.
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Keep up the fight!
There is more of the Byzantium to liberate.
(Using Lazopoulos's Demakis bros was a really nice touch!)
There is more of the Byzantium to liberate.
(Using Lazopoulos's Demakis bros was a really nice touch!)
I really enjoyed your tale of the last battle at Constantinople. The jealousy of the brothers, and seeing so many great men fall on both sides, were very touching. Well done!
I'm glad _Arcadian_ kept at this AAR. It's a must read. COngrats on the Weekly Showcase.