The Man Who Cried War

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Right, I got home from Dukes Genesis in Chelmsford about 2.30am. I was very drunk, and I turned my computer on, and for some strange reason, started playing EU2.

Well, I started a game in 1617, as England. I sent a 'Claim to the throne' to the French, and a few months later, they declared war.

This seemed all boring at first, and I was starting to sober. Then I saw a James Bond film on my desk (and for all you people who like attention to detail, the Bond film was "GoldenEye"). Suddenly, a 17th century war turned into espionage, and agents, and beautiful woman. I would try something maybe no AAR has ever done before!

The game only lasts maybe 6 months, but the AAR concentrates on a story, not a documentary of my gameplay. I hope you'll enjoy this, and i'll be starting to write it up tomorrow.

 

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Sounds like a new idea

 

[CatKnight]

Mm...not new.

Good, though! Really, really good idea. I wish you luck. I'll definitely follow this one!

 

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The face I would never forget

My name is John Tablot. An original name, named after St. John, so my mother would always tell me. In fact, my mother always told me that I would grow into a great and honest man. How wrong she would be.

When I was only five years old, something would happen which would change my life forever.

I was playing in a street outside our home in London. Suddenly, I heard a scream from inside our house. I jumped up, slammed through the door, to find my parents lying on the floor. Blood was seeping through their clothes, and onto the floor. A man stood over them, and he proceeded to start searching them, I presumed, for money.

He did not notice me there at first. Then he looked up. Our eyes met. I will never forget that face. The rugged beard and the cold, dark, piercing eyes. Seeing me, he bolted for it.

I stood there, tranced, absorbing the horror one has of seeing their dead parents. I sank to me knees and took both of their hands in mine, not managing to hold back the tears. Why did the man not murder me, like he had done to my parents? That was a question that would haunt me when I grew up.

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And grew up, I did. Our parish priest, the Rev. Richard Kingsley took me under his wing. He taught me much in my years I spent with him. I was taught to hate the Pope, to fear God and to revere our King, James I.

The fact that James I was Catholic was nothing to Kingsley. As long as Kingsley got paid, he was satisfied.

But I was teaching myself as well. During the day, I would hang around on the streets, and soon, I was mastering the art of Pickpocketing. By the time I was twelve, there was not a lock in all London I could not pick.
When I was fourteen, I found a knife on one of my incursions into another rich mans house. When I was fifteen, most of the children my age feared me. Many of the children would complain to Kingsley about my behaviour.

Aware of my situation, and deciding I would run away before Kingsley kicked me out, I stole most of the Church's gold, and pegged it. And far away from London I would run, into the country, and up north.

So now we come to the present, March 30th, 1617. I am now seventeen yers old, and rather well off. I have made my money in the shallow career of robbery and thieving. It was not an honest life, and I could imagine my Mother now looking down at me. Maybe I should feel guilty. But that guilt was destroyed, along with my parents, thanks to that face I would never forget.

Next time...The King Expects

 

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The King Expects

I live my life in a northern town as of this date. Upon arriving in the town, I managed to find a more generous landlord, less intent on cheating his tenants, and now own my own appartment on the main street.

I was sitting at my table. It was only that morning that the Landlord had told me that someone had given a letter to him - with my name on it. This was the letter I was reading now.

"Dear our faithful John,

We are aware of the life you lead. You may think that everybody looks at you as an honest man, who lives a respectable life. Well, we know different. I am sure you would not want us to reveal to everybody what you REALLY get up to in the evenings. We believe it was YOU that stole the priceless art collection of the Duke of York. We believe it was YOU that stole half the town treasury of Newcastle, that was responsible for starting a riot amoung the peasantry, and then looted the dead soldiers that quelled it.

Therefore, we are offering you an ultimation. You will work for us instead. You will do the jobs we have waiting for you. If you refuse, we will ruin you. You will come to Parliament Street in London, and meet us at the Kings Head Tavern.

Yours...faithfully."

The initial sting of the letter numbed my mind for at least a minute. Then I came to my senses. Was this a bluff? Was it blackmail?

I was assuming this was blackmail. Then other thoughts crossed my mind. Kingsley. Yes, Kingsley knew I was a common theif. It must be him.

So, I packed my stuff, paid the last rent, and started on my long journey back to London. I would get Kingsley for this.

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About three days later, I reached the main gate into London. Joining the throng of traders, I bundled myself through.

I thought I had escaped this city. Rubbish lied everywhere, the smell was revolting, and it seemed to ram itself up your nostrils. The dead were simply laid out on the street, and I had to be careful not to tread on the rats, that were crawling around on the street.
The timber houses streched miles into the distance. The disgusting people of London poked their heads out of their windows, and would occasionly shout insults at passer bys. Probably to start a fight, I do not know.

Finally I came to Parliament Street, but I had to duck down and be sick against a wall. I had lived here most my life - but I didn't expect to come back. I could recognise everything, the places I played when I was a child. Then I saw the pub, and proceeded to go through the door.

But there was no Kingsley there. It was someone I had never thought I would come across here. It was the man who had murdered my parents.

He looked up when I came in. He then made beckoning gestures towards me. So I went over.

As I sat down, I couldn't help but notice my hand shaking. But I managed to control my instinct to throttle the life out of him. I would hear him out

"Welcome John", he said.
I said nothing, so he proceeded.
"You understand why you've come. We know all about you. We, being most of the Kings court. You have come to the attention of the King. But he doesn't want you to thieve. He is aware that you are a master of disguise, can speak fluent French, and know how to pick the most difficult of locks. But most important he seems to think - is your skill with the knife."
"What has that to do with anything!" I said, but rather loudly. A few people turned their heads.
"Keep it down!!" said the man. "I will tell you." Then the man told me what he had to say:
"The king has a job for you. It must remain secret. He wants you to assainate the heir to the French throne, Louis, son of Louis XIII. We have some 'tools' that you can use."
As he said this, he pulled out from his coat a bundle. He handed it over to me.
"Why couldn't the King come here and see me!?" I said, starting to get angry again.
"The King, come here!?" laughed the man. "Come onto the street like a common peasant! We managed to persuade him not to. The real reason is that the King is hated at the moment, due to his rather 'Catholic' ideas. It might incite a riot or something!"

The man stood up, as if to go.
"Good luck on your mission", he said. And then he walked without hinderance, out of the door.

Gathering my thoughts, I looked at the bundle. I untied it, and out fell, a bag of money, an invitation to the Kings ball, various bits of paper shwoing maps of the palace where the ball was. But most striking was the bow and arrows...and the knife.

Next time...Two Kings Get Angry

 

[CatKnight]

Now that was an entertaining start! A mortal enemy, motive, secret mission? Looks like a very good start!

 

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I do like the tone of this one even if John does not sound like a guy I want to meet!

 

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Thankyou Stroph1 and CatKnight for your positive reviews!!! This is a lot better than my first AAR, England 1492, which was rather hopeless.

Next installment should be out tomorrow sometime (Friday).

 

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Two Kings Get Angry

So, I am in the service of people who are actually more scheming and evil than I am. I, who swore to never serve anybody but myself, and only help one thing...help myself to the gold and treasures of those richer than me.

I approached the pearly gates of the palace of Lyon. The King of France in all his smugness had decided to have a candlelit pathway to the main door. So my carriage traversed the long path, and in the darkness of the night, the candles cast looming shadows over me.

So I approach the door. The Guard of Honour at the door, in the most dry accented French I had ever heard, asked for my pass.

"Oui, monsiuer", I said.
"Bon", replied the Guard, looking round in agitated boredom.

Nothing would prepare me for the sight that awaited me inside. The vastness of the great hall was stunning. Many young beautiful ladies, probably the many duchesses the King liked to entertain, were standing around, with hands hiding their whispering. Many laughed, some giggled.

Most notably, in one corner, stood a woman, who stood out from everything though. She turned her head, and for a second, her eyes looked into mine, melting me insides. For a second, I stood there, exposed. Then I moved.

Walking up to the lady, I proceeded to take her hand, and raise it to my lips.
"And you would be...?" asked the lady.
"Monsiuer Tablot." I replied.
"Most charming, I am sure."
"For you madam though, It is but the least I could do."
She smiled at this.
"Yes, you are charming. I feel inclined to show you around."

She offered me her arm, and obligingly, I took it. She waltzed me round the hall, making me greet many a Lord or baron. But I was now getting a little annoyed. I wanted to stay low profile, and no way was this helping me.

"Please Madame, I have to go."
"But why?" she asked. "You have but barely arrived."
"Please...", I said, pulling away from her.

She looked upset, and distressed at my sudden change of manners. I could feel her eyes watching me leave the hall. But as I left the hall, I quickly turned down a corridor, towards my destination. The heirs room.

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After a few minutes, I arrived at the door I was looking for. According to the notes I was given, the King's heir would now be taking a bath. Trying the door though, I found it was locked. Grinning now, realising why I was hired, I started to pick the lock on the door - and within a few seconds, it swung open.

But the heir was not there.

Walkng into the room, I drew the dagger out of my cloak. Where was he? Suddenly, every shape started to look human for some reason. And then, it pounced.

A man jumped from behind a statue, and started to wrestle with me.
"Ah ha. As expected", he said. "I was warned of this."
But the look of determanation in the man's face changed to a look of horror, as my knife slipped into his flesh. Slowly he slid, down to the ground, and with a thump, he hit the floor.

Looking around me, I saw silhouetted in the door, the beautiful lady.

"You!" she cried.
"I...I mean..." I stuttered.
"Why, you are an English man."

Not thinking twice, I ran.

Next time...The World Blew Up

 

[Corruption]

Nice AAR

 

[Farquharson]

This has got me hooked - fast-paced and plenty of suspense. Keep it up!

 

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I would like to thank all who have said such good things about my AAR. I've got a few twists in the story coming up!!!

Anyway, I was going to update Saturday, but I met a really gourgous lady, and started chatting her up, and then most of Sunday I have spent with her.

Anyway, here it is...

The World Blew Up

I was fleeing for my very life. Out of the door I flew, past the stunned lady. She could only look on in horror, probably not being able to take in the fact that a man who had been chatting friendly to her not some fifteen minutes before, was now a murderer, with a look of cold self pity in his eyes.

Two guards, who had heard the cries of the lady, came rushing towards me, drawing out their swords. But I was too quick for them. They swung at me, but missed me. Darting between their movements, and with quick, darting jabs, I cut them down. And quickly as the fight had been, I ran, leaving the two stunned guards, groaning on the floor, moments away from the death that awaited them.

Towards the main door I ran. Many ladies from the hall started pointing at me and screaming, hands over their mouths. And now I realised why...I was covered in blood!

The pompous French guard, who had taken my pass, was advancing towards me, along with seven or eight other guards, now only fifty yards away. There was nothing for it. I withdrew my musket, and aimed...and fired.

Two guards fell, one in the head, the other by the bullet that had passed through the other. Shot two, another guard fell. Shot three, a guard was hit in the leg, and started to hobble away.

Only five guards were left, the leading guard being the door guard, and were almost upon me. With a feeling of grim determination, I gripped my sword, and swung.

The lead guard felt the pain of cold metal in his stomach and fell. Then came the next, but I managed to slice his throat. As his sword fell, I grabbed it. The last three started backing away nervously, not willing to face the same consequences as their dead comrades.

With one last grin, I threw the captured sword at one of the guards who immediately fell, dead. Then out of the door I walked.

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For half an hour I must have been on my horse. I could hear the sound of bugles in the distance, obviously the sound of the French military combing the countryside, looking for me.

Feeling weary after my fighting, I managed to get my horse into one last sprint. Gripping the reins tightly, the horse sped through the surrounding lands of Lyon, and with all haste to my rendez vous at a farmhouse supposedly nearby.

I soon came upon a village. It was dark, no lights could be seen, and no soul either. Slowing my horse down to a canter, I entered the village gate.

I soon came to the church, and I could see that there was at last a sign of life. A light was on in the the house next door. I was supposing this was the Priests house. So, I got off my horse, and tied it up to a post nearby. And I walked up to the door. Maybe I could get something to eat. Looking around momentarily, I summoned up a little courage, and knocked.

The door was answered after a short while by none other than...Kingsley.
"What! Is it not...John!?"
"Yes, that is me." I said. "But what are you doing here?"
"I can not tell you."
Feeling angry, I withdrew my sword, and pointed it at Kingsley's throat.
"Believe me 'Father', I am not afraid to cut a priests throat. Now tell me, why are you here!?"
Starting to sweat, Kingsley sunk to his knees.
"You...you remember the man you met at the Kings..s head", he said, trembling. "W...well, he made me follow you here, to check up on you."
"Who is he!?" I shouted at him.
"I don't know!?", he said, but now, blubbering and crying. "Please, nobody knows who he is, their is no record of him anywhere!"
Withdrawing me sword from his throat, he stumbled back to his feet again.
"You do believe me, don't you."
Staring at him, I took out my musket.
"You...you're going to kill me!!"
"Yes, I am."
Kingsley started to run, but no way was he going to outrun my musket. Once more that evening, I aimed, and fired. The fat body of Kingsley fell to the ground, in another act of cruel butality on my part. It would not be the last.

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Next time..."And it blew up again"

 

[CatKnight]

Your character is very dark, which definitely works for this scenario. The action and adventure are all there, good job!

One little nit though - John's musket. There are no chambers or cartridges - John would need to stand there and reload after every shot - a good twenty or thirty seconds. That's one of the reasons swordplay was still so necessary.

Still though, a great start and I look forward to more!

 

[Farquharson]

Come on, CatKnight, you're forgetting about "Q", or his 17th century forebear. John had of course been issued with a handy gadget - a triple-barrelled musket - for just such an occasion as this! And I'm sure we can look forward to many more of "Q"s handy inventions in future episodes, right wcoleridge?

 

[CatKnight]

Hm, that's true. Does he have a steam-engine carriage with smokescreens and stuff???

 

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Guys, the story is fictional! If the musket is quick loading, then so be it. You must agree that it is much more fun to blow someones brains out to doing silly sword fights with your hand behind your back and shouting "On guard!" You ever seen vampire movies!!??

Anyway, I plan to have a few of "Q's" gadgets, don't worry Farquharson.

 

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And it all blew up

Back to the city. The city of my childhood. Back to the smell. The horrid smell, that was so strong that I could taste it in my mouth.

Back to the dank memories, the corroding streets, the cold shoulders of strangers I once knew. Back to the sewers that ran through the streets, where tramps and plauged people crawled on the ground to find their meal for the day. Back for revenge.

I kicked open the door of Kingsley's house. Kingsley was now lying in a pool of blood near Lyon, France. I would search his house.

I walked the corridor of his home. I remember the home. Only two years before, I remember the times I would sneak around them, often with the pickings of suckers. Statues lined the walls, paintings stared at me from the wall.

But I found what I was looking for. The end of the corridor, on the wall stood probably the most insignificant painting of all, looking rather shabby. It was a painting of the virgin queen, Queen Elizabeth. But I had noticed years before that at the bottom stood a phrase, "I who have found, seeked and destroyed need say only two words to those who devote themselves to me."

What did it mean? Whilst I was poundering the question, I didn't notice someone coming behind me.

"The answer is 'Trust me'", said a voice behind me.

Obeying the voice, the painting, almost relunctantly, swung away from the wall, and the wall folded back to reveal a gaping black hole. I turned round to see the beautiful lady from the palace.

"What are you doing here?" I said, "And how did you know that."
"This", said the lady, "Is the headquarters of the Kings assasins."

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The lady and I went into the hole, and immediately came to a man sitting on a wooden chair. The man seeing me, sat up straight all of a sudden.
"How did you know the password, John."
"Because I told him!" said the lady, stepping into the light.
The man stepped back in surprise.
"If you yell", I said "I'll kill you."
Then we tied him up.

We proceeded down the tunnel, following the torches.
"Who are you?" I managed to say to her.
"I am Madame Marie Burgoyne of Marsailles. I am a spy for the English government." she said. "What were you doing in Lyon?" she added.
"Obviously, I said, "to assasinate the heir to the French throne. Who are the Kings assasins?"
"I do not know myself, but they have devoted themselves to starting a war between England and France. They are the aristocrats that once owned land in France, before we lost it all. They say that the group is run by the King, but the King knows nothing about it."
"Then what have I got to do with it?" I asked.
"They have used you!" she said. "Have you not heard the news! France has declared war on our England. They gave a warning to the King only a day before your mission. You were caught red handed, and now the King of France has all the proof he needs."
"Then lets get some information!!" I said, grinning.

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The tunnel soon came to an end. It opened up into a big cave. There were lots of barrels around, but in the middle of the room stood about twelve people, all animately chatting. Pointing out to Marie that the barrels were good for hiding behind, we crept along. Peering out, I saw that my parents murderer was there.

"The plan has gone to plan", said my parents murderer. "Soon, we shall reveal ourselves, and take over the French throne, due to its lack of an heir!"
"What about John?" asked another voice. "What does he know about us?"
"Nothing!" said my parents murderer again. "He is slow and dimwitted, he would never guess!"
"But that doesn't explain the murder of Kingsley!!??" said another voice.
At this, everybody started arguing bitterly, shouting loudly, and shaking fists at the people who had asked the questions. But I had noticed the smell of gunpowder in the air.

"Marie. These barrels are full of gunpower!!" I said. "We can get them all in one big bang!"
Marie, catching on, grabbed a burning torch off the wall, and handed it to me. Opening a crate, I threw in the torch.

"RUN!!" I shouted, pulling Marie behind me.

BOOM!!! The earth shook, and not looking behind me, we ran, threw the winding tunnel.

Next time...Escape from the tower.

 

[AmbassadeBelgie]

Just found this one, COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 00-(161)7 is back!!!! Maybe Q should be called something else too... How about P, or maybe R... Or A, B, C, D, the list is 26 possibilities long!!! unless it's something like Ô or Ù or Ë or something...§§§§§§§§REALLY GREAT, AM READING THIS ONE FOR SURE§§§§§§§§...

Th :rofl:

 

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My next AAR

This AAR has still got a little way to go, but I am already thinking about another one.

I need IDEAS!!! Can anybody think of some?? Please post if you can. Something like a country, or an historical event or something.

*EDIT -- I've come up with an idea already. I have a famous ancestor called S.T.Coleridge, a famous poet who lived from 1772 - 1834. I have thought I could set a story on him in context to the scenario "Napoleon's Ambition". In the late 1790's/early 1800's, Coleridge wrote some of his greatest works such as "Kubla Khan" and "The rhyme of the Ancient Mariner", whilst working with another legend of a poet - William Wordsworth.

What do you think?

 

[Farquharson]

Hmmm... Maybe you could write it in poetry - you must have some poetical genes! But make sure you finish this story first.