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No one can accuse you of being a coward. Foolish maybe but a brave fool. 
Good luck.
Joe
Good luck.Joe
There is a chance I might get banned from these forums, so I will try to finish just in time the last chapter around tomorrow, so at least can have the first part finished.
Huh what did you do wrong ? You just make a kick-ass AAR ! What are wrong with people these days !
Well, it seems I'm going to be around a bit more, at least until next year's warning (I seem to get one each year), so I will finish "part I" just today (as bonus to my readers), so monday I can start fresh with "part II".
No, you have two warnings this year (one mine and the other from Blade, AFAIK)Lucius Sulla said:
Chapter 20: The Battle of the Ahora Valley (2nd Part)
The soldiers of Antioch and Tripoli arrived during the night to the beggining of the path towards mount Ararat, it's impressive mass just in front of them. For no less than three weeks they had forced their march, and a feeling of anxiety filled the minds of the christian camp. The Count of Tripoli had not made a great effort to conceal the open disgust with which he conducted this expedition into so dangerous and hostile lands, in the frontier of the Azerbaian with Byzantine Anatolia.
Finally, dawn surprised the Christian infantry. The dark, huge mountain hovered like a fang, pointed against the very souls of the humans, regardless their religion, that had dared to step so near the holy mountain. More than five thousand metres of height, where tradition narrated Noah's ark had found earth for the first time...
The top of the mountain was covered in dark clouds, and only a long windy path, wide but stony, raised towards the target of David... the valley of Ahora, the way up the mountain.
David of Palau raised before the sun broke the horizon with its shining yellow sphere, as he always did. It was a clear night, and a full moon shone over the field. To his surprise, Count Raymound was already standing up and facing the mountain.
"Look... the way into the valley is covered in lights. We have arrived too late, templar. Peliwhan, the tutor of the sultan, is already here."
David was feeling in his soul a deep pain with the distant and angered treatment his former friend offered to him. But he forced himself to focus in his current concerns, his unavoidable duty. Reaching the ark before the Seljuks could manage to contact the mighty Djinns.
"You have to attack. You must win time for me... or all will be lost."
For once, Count Raymond did not retort with his usual sarcasm. As he heard the tone of despair, something he had never heard in the voice of David of Palau, he understood that even when he could not believe those fairy tales, Pelihwan himself had not a single doubt about them. Becuase... what else would the muslim overlord want to bring his powerful army to this remote place instead of leading it to the south to Edessa and Antioch?
"This is madness... madness! They have four... five! men for each of ours. Perhaps it would be possible... if we were in the Jordan valley and my troops were cavalry... but even brave, they are only infantry. Even the few cavalry I have it's light and not too well equipped. And the way is... just too narrow... I would prefer by far to be the one defending it... this is madness, I say... they have every single advantage.
"Madness, maybe it is... but our only possible option. Look... they are moving... they have spotted us. Now we can only fight or die."
The count sighed "Fight AND die, rather..."
The Templar knight turned, and putting the palms of his hand onto the shoulders of the nobleman, he tried to inspire some false hopes in him.
"Raymond. You are the best warrior of our generation. I have never met a general with more wits, a fighter with more skill, a noble with more good judgement. You will find the way. Give me... just some time... ressist as much as you can and..." his hand reached for a bag tied to his belt, from which he extracted small stone balls, black as the obsidian, but heavy as plumber.
"Whatever this might be, it anhilated a city of Djinns in the dessert of Arabia. My target is to reach the doors of the ark and to throw this to the demons of the mountain. Chaos will break out and you will have a chance to escape with your troops. Prepare a explorer... your fastest man with a horse. After everything happens and you are safe, make him get back here and climb the way up. Tell him to get the flowers that will have grown there... those flowers, you will deliver to William of Tyre."
Raymond nodded. The templar was so deeply convinced of his mad ramblings, that for a moment, for a single moment, he had the temptation of believing in them, too...
Forming his own troops, Raymond, from his heavy war horse, observed how the turks readied themselves for the battle. Even when it was clear that the sudden appearance of the christians was all but expected.
Raymond smiled. They were not expecting them... well, a little advantage, after all, even weak and useless. He did not try to cheer up his soldiers, to do a pretty speech... Each one of them knew that they were going to die, to sacrifice themselves for orders they did not understand. But their general, their lord, always had been faithful to them, and take them of the worst situations. They would fight to the end.
"May God pardon you, David, because you are causing these brave men's death. May God pardon you, since I can't."
The templar turned his head, uncomfortable before the last words Raymond directed to him. After them, the count of Tripoli ordered his troops to charge against the enemy.
The strategy was simple, and without a doubt ressulted surprising for the turks. A escalated charge over the muslim ranks. Line after line of christian soldiers crushed themselves against the turkish spearmen as waves upon a rocky shore, trying to retreat each time after inflicting as much casualties as they could. The turkish officers could not believe what they were seeing, before the fierce suicidal attacks of the christians, not interested in finding any possition of advantage, but just to hurt the enemy, without regard for their own survival. Slowly, the turkish line advanced, tempted out of the valley entrance.
Raymond directed and led the attacks with bravery and tenacity, each single charge, each ordered retreat. From his eyes tears fell like streams, as he saw how the field was getting covered with corpses of good christians, watered with christian blood. In not a lot more than half an hour, they would exhaust their resources. At least, they were selling their lives at a high price. Then, suddenly, he could distinguish with his sight a lone cloaked figure riding as fast as he could up the mountain. The templar had passed.
David rode without a single rest, while the last words of the count still resounded into his ears, branding themselves into his mind. He knew, better than anybody else, that he was the sole responsible for this massacre... but he just believed... knew! that he was doing the right thing. He disregarded finally this thoughts to hurry his horse. Time was short.
In the end of the trail, Peliwhan, the old fox of Azerbaian, was finishing the ritual. The splitted prince would seal the pact with the powerful nation of Djinns... whatever that meant. In an improvised and rough wooden alter, the nude and bound figure of Suleyman-shah, the pretender to the throne of Seljuk, who had failed in his attempted and who was believed dead by everybody, laid, with fear in his eyes. That was the closest to a prince they could find. After the last invocations, he nodded.
A soldier of his personal guard slashed down with his heavy scimitar onto the belly of the prisoner, splitting him in two. The blood splashed all over the rocks... Peliwhan then followed with the chant, with words he could not understand but that he had learnt to the last letter. If the invocation had worked for the byzantines, it would work for him...
Before them was the end of the road... in many senses. A metalic structure, of... something... smooth and black. A perfect cube, not eroded at all, even when it was clear it had been there for centuries... for milennia! Embedded deeply into the mountain, the part that was visible was taller than anything built by the hand of man. And suddenly, a thin straight crack opened, shedding a pure, bright white light from it.
The door opened slowly, and from the opening a blinding light flooded into the valley. More brilliant than one hundred suns, the humans fell on his knees, believing that only celestial beings could appear after such display. Peliwhan sang his praises to Allah, his mind overcome at the spectacle that was unfolding before him. A being of inmense beauty, of pure light, came through the celestial gate. And then, Peliwhan noticed that one of the men at his side had not kneeled.
"Stupid, kneel down! you are going to offend them!" He tried to reach with his hands to pull him down as the rest. But as he looked up to see who was the idiot, he realized with horror that it was not one of his men.
The templar ignored the hands that tried to pull his disguise, and taking some of the strange balls he had, he put them in his sling. Strange messages, that he could barely understand, overloaded his mind. Whispers in a language more ancient than the world. Promised of power. But with effort, he disregarded them, reaffirming his will. Focusing his mind in the circular movement of the sling over his head, he let one of its strings free, throwing the stones...
The spherical stones seemed to fly in slow motion, as if air itself had turned viscuous and offered ressistance to their advance. But when they reached the djinn, hell was unleashed upon earth.
A inhuman acute cry hurted everybody's ears. Suddenly air turned cold, freezing... and thousands of little balls, like the ones David had thrown, but in every size, fell upon the ground of the trail, rolling down onto the valley. The light disappeared, leaving behind a darkness so sudden that it caused pain in the eyes, even in the touch, cold and cruel.
And then, other Djinns came forth, furious for the death of their brother.
Whirlwinds of pure elemental energy, they pured like a hurricane from the now dark opening. The turks were raised into the air, while they cried in terror, and then where cut in little and unrecognizable pieces of meat, that were casted down into the valley, discarded as broken toys.
David closed his eyes and raised his hands, prepared to receive the same fate as his enemies. Despite the chaos around him, he could only feel peace, his duty fulfiled. Slowly a cradle song started to form into his mind, the only thing he could remember from his childhood, of his mother. With his lips closed, the soothing sound of the song, its rythm, occupied his mind, was everything for him.
And when he opened his eyes he was not himself. He was not human. The very same rythm of the song was his very same being, his soul. He looked at the creatures that where beneath him. They were... strange. Fragile. He extended his vortex towards one and brought it towards him. Slowly he pulled one of its appendages, feeling how a part of him was splashed with something that he would have identified as blood, just some minutes ago. They had killed his sister... but he did not mind. He tried to communicate with the strange beings... but his voice destroyed, his words crushed them.
A new sensation took command of his capricious state of mind. With his brothers and sisters, he moved across the sky, to descend onto the strange things, moving like ants. His brothers wanted to see what they were... they wanted to communicate...
A very small thread of conscience, of his true conscience, finally took control, and he finally remembered what he had been... what was his mission. He still hummed the song... he realized that the rythm was the language... somehow the song had given him control, that maybe rythm was communication, and communication was control for the djinns... he was one of them... he could guide them...
When he finished his job, he could only finish hte song. The djinns, surprised, returned to their home, to study the being that could indeed talk to them.
David noticed how the savage currents of air raised his body, pressing onto him beyond human ressitance. Feeling numb, he felt how each one of his limbs was ripped from his body in explosions of blood, how his entrails were ripped from him, casted into the air, swirling in the hurricane that were the djinns. He looked down and saw how his blood, the pieces of his body falled upon the ground... the blood coating the grass... The grass. The flowers. The death of the Djinn. The Alierta herbs, the cure to all illness or wound. He suddenly understood, and crying with bitter tears, understood his fate. But he accepted it, thinking of the irony, the words he had said to William... "there will never be true rest or peace for me...".
...
Raymond of Tripoli looked, beyond hope, how his men were anhiliated with each of the charges, retreating slowly before the turks, as the enemy finally recognized and started to use their superior numbers. Surprised at first by the boldness of the christian attack, they could not react, but finally they had realized they could crush the christian army. More than half of his men were dead, and many of the rest were wounded. And even then, all of them remained firm, ready for their unavoidable end.
Raymond raised his voice in a cry of war, of rage. He took the flag of Tripoli, the symbol of his house, and he raised it towards the heaven. Suddenly, a loud sound, a deafening explosion crossed the field of battle, with a bright light coming from high up in the mountain.
Suddenly, nearly all combat ceased, while both sides tried to gather what was happening.
From the Ararat, floating in the air, beings fo light, of dust, of rocks, of sand and stone, fell over the turkish army. Sometimes they just looked like a strong dusty wind. Sometimes they formed themselves upon stranged winged beings, earth mixed with light. Raymond realized that they defied any description. And then he realized something more important, and far more practical. Whatever they were... they were attacking just the muslims!
The christian soldiers soon noticed the same, and even sooner they reached the conclusion that God Almighty had sent His Angels to help His Soldiers in their hour of need. With renewed energy the surviving crusaders charged again for the last time agains the broken muslim ranks, that dismembered and attacked by supernatural beings tried to feel desperately.
Battle turned a massacre, in which the few and mad with terror enemies that the "angels" had left alive were anhilated by the crusaders.
When the sun set beyond the field of battle, this was, unbelievable in Christian hands. Raymond could barely believe in the victory. The soldiers, instead of sacking the corpses, kneeled and prayed, giving thanks to God for the miracle that they have witnessed with their own eyes. All the norther army of the turks had been killed, nearly to hte last man. The news of this miraculous victory would soon reach all the East... all the West!
Raymond, finally dismounted from his horse and fell upon the ground, laying face up, exhausted. He looked high upon the end of the Valley of Ahora and he knew that David of Palau, Templar Knight, had died, saving him "You... you have fulfiled your promise, David... and I will fulfil mine. Oh god... god... GOD!" he could not help but crying "I... I hope... wherever you are... that you will pardon my doubts... my harsh words... please... god... pardon me..."
------------------------
David, the journalist, uttered gurgling cries of pain as he felt how his arms were ripped from him, his belly pierced and cut by the sharp wind... and suddenly everything stopped.
He found himself in the dark library, covered with shiver and in one single piece, even when he felt his body several times to make himself sure of it.
The soldiers of Antioch and Tripoli arrived during the night to the beggining of the path towards mount Ararat, it's impressive mass just in front of them. For no less than three weeks they had forced their march, and a feeling of anxiety filled the minds of the christian camp. The Count of Tripoli had not made a great effort to conceal the open disgust with which he conducted this expedition into so dangerous and hostile lands, in the frontier of the Azerbaian with Byzantine Anatolia.
Finally, dawn surprised the Christian infantry. The dark, huge mountain hovered like a fang, pointed against the very souls of the humans, regardless their religion, that had dared to step so near the holy mountain. More than five thousand metres of height, where tradition narrated Noah's ark had found earth for the first time...
The top of the mountain was covered in dark clouds, and only a long windy path, wide but stony, raised towards the target of David... the valley of Ahora, the way up the mountain.
David of Palau raised before the sun broke the horizon with its shining yellow sphere, as he always did. It was a clear night, and a full moon shone over the field. To his surprise, Count Raymound was already standing up and facing the mountain.
"Look... the way into the valley is covered in lights. We have arrived too late, templar. Peliwhan, the tutor of the sultan, is already here."
David was feeling in his soul a deep pain with the distant and angered treatment his former friend offered to him. But he forced himself to focus in his current concerns, his unavoidable duty. Reaching the ark before the Seljuks could manage to contact the mighty Djinns.
"You have to attack. You must win time for me... or all will be lost."
For once, Count Raymond did not retort with his usual sarcasm. As he heard the tone of despair, something he had never heard in the voice of David of Palau, he understood that even when he could not believe those fairy tales, Pelihwan himself had not a single doubt about them. Becuase... what else would the muslim overlord want to bring his powerful army to this remote place instead of leading it to the south to Edessa and Antioch?
"This is madness... madness! They have four... five! men for each of ours. Perhaps it would be possible... if we were in the Jordan valley and my troops were cavalry... but even brave, they are only infantry. Even the few cavalry I have it's light and not too well equipped. And the way is... just too narrow... I would prefer by far to be the one defending it... this is madness, I say... they have every single advantage.
"Madness, maybe it is... but our only possible option. Look... they are moving... they have spotted us. Now we can only fight or die."
The count sighed "Fight AND die, rather..."
The Templar knight turned, and putting the palms of his hand onto the shoulders of the nobleman, he tried to inspire some false hopes in him.
"Raymond. You are the best warrior of our generation. I have never met a general with more wits, a fighter with more skill, a noble with more good judgement. You will find the way. Give me... just some time... ressist as much as you can and..." his hand reached for a bag tied to his belt, from which he extracted small stone balls, black as the obsidian, but heavy as plumber.
"Whatever this might be, it anhilated a city of Djinns in the dessert of Arabia. My target is to reach the doors of the ark and to throw this to the demons of the mountain. Chaos will break out and you will have a chance to escape with your troops. Prepare a explorer... your fastest man with a horse. After everything happens and you are safe, make him get back here and climb the way up. Tell him to get the flowers that will have grown there... those flowers, you will deliver to William of Tyre."
Raymond nodded. The templar was so deeply convinced of his mad ramblings, that for a moment, for a single moment, he had the temptation of believing in them, too...
Forming his own troops, Raymond, from his heavy war horse, observed how the turks readied themselves for the battle. Even when it was clear that the sudden appearance of the christians was all but expected.
Raymond smiled. They were not expecting them... well, a little advantage, after all, even weak and useless. He did not try to cheer up his soldiers, to do a pretty speech... Each one of them knew that they were going to die, to sacrifice themselves for orders they did not understand. But their general, their lord, always had been faithful to them, and take them of the worst situations. They would fight to the end.
"May God pardon you, David, because you are causing these brave men's death. May God pardon you, since I can't."
The templar turned his head, uncomfortable before the last words Raymond directed to him. After them, the count of Tripoli ordered his troops to charge against the enemy.
The strategy was simple, and without a doubt ressulted surprising for the turks. A escalated charge over the muslim ranks. Line after line of christian soldiers crushed themselves against the turkish spearmen as waves upon a rocky shore, trying to retreat each time after inflicting as much casualties as they could. The turkish officers could not believe what they were seeing, before the fierce suicidal attacks of the christians, not interested in finding any possition of advantage, but just to hurt the enemy, without regard for their own survival. Slowly, the turkish line advanced, tempted out of the valley entrance.
Raymond directed and led the attacks with bravery and tenacity, each single charge, each ordered retreat. From his eyes tears fell like streams, as he saw how the field was getting covered with corpses of good christians, watered with christian blood. In not a lot more than half an hour, they would exhaust their resources. At least, they were selling their lives at a high price. Then, suddenly, he could distinguish with his sight a lone cloaked figure riding as fast as he could up the mountain. The templar had passed.
David rode without a single rest, while the last words of the count still resounded into his ears, branding themselves into his mind. He knew, better than anybody else, that he was the sole responsible for this massacre... but he just believed... knew! that he was doing the right thing. He disregarded finally this thoughts to hurry his horse. Time was short.
In the end of the trail, Peliwhan, the old fox of Azerbaian, was finishing the ritual. The splitted prince would seal the pact with the powerful nation of Djinns... whatever that meant. In an improvised and rough wooden alter, the nude and bound figure of Suleyman-shah, the pretender to the throne of Seljuk, who had failed in his attempted and who was believed dead by everybody, laid, with fear in his eyes. That was the closest to a prince they could find. After the last invocations, he nodded.
A soldier of his personal guard slashed down with his heavy scimitar onto the belly of the prisoner, splitting him in two. The blood splashed all over the rocks... Peliwhan then followed with the chant, with words he could not understand but that he had learnt to the last letter. If the invocation had worked for the byzantines, it would work for him...
Before them was the end of the road... in many senses. A metalic structure, of... something... smooth and black. A perfect cube, not eroded at all, even when it was clear it had been there for centuries... for milennia! Embedded deeply into the mountain, the part that was visible was taller than anything built by the hand of man. And suddenly, a thin straight crack opened, shedding a pure, bright white light from it.
The door opened slowly, and from the opening a blinding light flooded into the valley. More brilliant than one hundred suns, the humans fell on his knees, believing that only celestial beings could appear after such display. Peliwhan sang his praises to Allah, his mind overcome at the spectacle that was unfolding before him. A being of inmense beauty, of pure light, came through the celestial gate. And then, Peliwhan noticed that one of the men at his side had not kneeled.
"Stupid, kneel down! you are going to offend them!" He tried to reach with his hands to pull him down as the rest. But as he looked up to see who was the idiot, he realized with horror that it was not one of his men.
The templar ignored the hands that tried to pull his disguise, and taking some of the strange balls he had, he put them in his sling. Strange messages, that he could barely understand, overloaded his mind. Whispers in a language more ancient than the world. Promised of power. But with effort, he disregarded them, reaffirming his will. Focusing his mind in the circular movement of the sling over his head, he let one of its strings free, throwing the stones...
The spherical stones seemed to fly in slow motion, as if air itself had turned viscuous and offered ressistance to their advance. But when they reached the djinn, hell was unleashed upon earth.
A inhuman acute cry hurted everybody's ears. Suddenly air turned cold, freezing... and thousands of little balls, like the ones David had thrown, but in every size, fell upon the ground of the trail, rolling down onto the valley. The light disappeared, leaving behind a darkness so sudden that it caused pain in the eyes, even in the touch, cold and cruel.
And then, other Djinns came forth, furious for the death of their brother.
Whirlwinds of pure elemental energy, they pured like a hurricane from the now dark opening. The turks were raised into the air, while they cried in terror, and then where cut in little and unrecognizable pieces of meat, that were casted down into the valley, discarded as broken toys.
David closed his eyes and raised his hands, prepared to receive the same fate as his enemies. Despite the chaos around him, he could only feel peace, his duty fulfiled. Slowly a cradle song started to form into his mind, the only thing he could remember from his childhood, of his mother. With his lips closed, the soothing sound of the song, its rythm, occupied his mind, was everything for him.
And when he opened his eyes he was not himself. He was not human. The very same rythm of the song was his very same being, his soul. He looked at the creatures that where beneath him. They were... strange. Fragile. He extended his vortex towards one and brought it towards him. Slowly he pulled one of its appendages, feeling how a part of him was splashed with something that he would have identified as blood, just some minutes ago. They had killed his sister... but he did not mind. He tried to communicate with the strange beings... but his voice destroyed, his words crushed them.
A new sensation took command of his capricious state of mind. With his brothers and sisters, he moved across the sky, to descend onto the strange things, moving like ants. His brothers wanted to see what they were... they wanted to communicate...
A very small thread of conscience, of his true conscience, finally took control, and he finally remembered what he had been... what was his mission. He still hummed the song... he realized that the rythm was the language... somehow the song had given him control, that maybe rythm was communication, and communication was control for the djinns... he was one of them... he could guide them...
When he finished his job, he could only finish hte song. The djinns, surprised, returned to their home, to study the being that could indeed talk to them.
David noticed how the savage currents of air raised his body, pressing onto him beyond human ressitance. Feeling numb, he felt how each one of his limbs was ripped from his body in explosions of blood, how his entrails were ripped from him, casted into the air, swirling in the hurricane that were the djinns. He looked down and saw how his blood, the pieces of his body falled upon the ground... the blood coating the grass... The grass. The flowers. The death of the Djinn. The Alierta herbs, the cure to all illness or wound. He suddenly understood, and crying with bitter tears, understood his fate. But he accepted it, thinking of the irony, the words he had said to William... "there will never be true rest or peace for me...".
...
Raymond of Tripoli looked, beyond hope, how his men were anhiliated with each of the charges, retreating slowly before the turks, as the enemy finally recognized and started to use their superior numbers. Surprised at first by the boldness of the christian attack, they could not react, but finally they had realized they could crush the christian army. More than half of his men were dead, and many of the rest were wounded. And even then, all of them remained firm, ready for their unavoidable end.
Raymond raised his voice in a cry of war, of rage. He took the flag of Tripoli, the symbol of his house, and he raised it towards the heaven. Suddenly, a loud sound, a deafening explosion crossed the field of battle, with a bright light coming from high up in the mountain.
Suddenly, nearly all combat ceased, while both sides tried to gather what was happening.
From the Ararat, floating in the air, beings fo light, of dust, of rocks, of sand and stone, fell over the turkish army. Sometimes they just looked like a strong dusty wind. Sometimes they formed themselves upon stranged winged beings, earth mixed with light. Raymond realized that they defied any description. And then he realized something more important, and far more practical. Whatever they were... they were attacking just the muslims!
The christian soldiers soon noticed the same, and even sooner they reached the conclusion that God Almighty had sent His Angels to help His Soldiers in their hour of need. With renewed energy the surviving crusaders charged again for the last time agains the broken muslim ranks, that dismembered and attacked by supernatural beings tried to feel desperately.
Battle turned a massacre, in which the few and mad with terror enemies that the "angels" had left alive were anhilated by the crusaders.
When the sun set beyond the field of battle, this was, unbelievable in Christian hands. Raymond could barely believe in the victory. The soldiers, instead of sacking the corpses, kneeled and prayed, giving thanks to God for the miracle that they have witnessed with their own eyes. All the norther army of the turks had been killed, nearly to hte last man. The news of this miraculous victory would soon reach all the East... all the West!
Raymond, finally dismounted from his horse and fell upon the ground, laying face up, exhausted. He looked high upon the end of the Valley of Ahora and he knew that David of Palau, Templar Knight, had died, saving him "You... you have fulfiled your promise, David... and I will fulfil mine. Oh god... god... GOD!" he could not help but crying "I... I hope... wherever you are... that you will pardon my doubts... my harsh words... please... god... pardon me..."
------------------------
David, the journalist, uttered gurgling cries of pain as he felt how his arms were ripped from him, his belly pierced and cut by the sharp wind... and suddenly everything stopped.
He found himself in the dark library, covered with shiver and in one single piece, even when he felt his body several times to make himself sure of it.
END OF PART ONE
Kosh said:
Oh well, depend the moment you start to count the year from, I was not counting from January 1st
.Well, this is my favourite chapter, and one of the longest, and certainly the one that took me more time to write. I hope you have enjoyed it, and the first part of this AAR
.
Some battle. Rather terribly by the sounds of it. But will it be anything more than a hollow victory?
9,000 against 27,000 Yep I know exactly how that feels. It was a good chapter and a pleasure to read.
Joe
Yep I know exactly how that feels. It was a good chapter and a pleasure to read.Joe
About the Battle of the Ahora Valley:
First of all, sorry for the lack of updates. I have been charged this week into giving a pair of formation courses to clients, and that, added up to my normal workload have made me rest a bit from my translating tasks. Next week, I promise I will continue with the 2nd part of the AAR, 11 chapters in total, one each day during weekdays.
I feel the battle of the Ahora valley I have described and incorporated to my history desserves an explanation and a narration of its own about what happened in the game, since in game terms it was quite miraculous.
First, the battle of Hattin was the true child of my imprudence. I purpousfully tried to push the limits of the possibilities of my pure cavalry armies in plains and desert provinces. Up to that moment, I had always managed to win, even in 1 to 2 situations, without too many problem (as you will check by previous chapters).
The problem is the Seljuk army I found was 1 to 3. And since they had in those 30.000 troops, 7.000 cavalry on their own (against my 10.000 cavalry army), I lost my cavalry advantage. The gamer I have inside me told me "You have to flee. NOW." But... well... IA never tries to escape... so... well... I said... what the hell, let's see what happens. The next thing I saw was "Your army has been anhiliated".
And my little "test" was quite more expensive when I noticed 15 to 20 thousand troops from Kwazharim coming behind them. And the azerbaian army at the north... Well, as you will see in the beggining of the next chapter I took a loan (the only time I did in the whole game) and survived with new troops...
And now... the battle of Ahora valley, nearly happened just as I have narrated in my double final chapter. I really thought at the time that Saint James had appeared to them to kill the muslim army, throwing flaming arrows...
The thing happened as follows.
Obviously, I was allied with the Duchy of Antioch and the County of Tripoli, both my vassals. So, even when I never count on my allies troops in EU2 (with good reasons), I just counted on them to put some brakes at the army that was coming north from Azerbaian, that menaced my north flank, while I recovered from my particular Hattin. If they only bought me 6 months, I would have been very happy, even when they would have been anhilated as usual. Just time enough to use my newly bought cavalry and go north to save their asses.
To my dismay I saw ALL the Antioch and Tripoli army going north from the Nuyssabin(Edessa) province, going directly towards 25.000 troops, leaded by Pelihwan, a quite good leader, who were going to defend in mountain and with a 1 to 2'5 superiority...
I... well, you can guess I quite blasphemed at the stupidity of the IA of my allies, that charged into superior armies and thus getting anhilated instantly, instead of defending at their home and maybe win, giving me the time I needed. I looked at their lead, and I wrote down it was Raymond of Tripoli and some antioch leader... so I could remember it for the AAR as "The idiot who led his troops to get slaughtered". In fact, that was going to be my Hattin, when I thought of that at that point. I took a screenshot and I centered in rebuilding my strength
But then...
The next time I looked at that part of the screen... my eyes widened when I saw... They had won!!! They only had 5500 troops left, that after clearing the zone, came back to Antioch and Tripoli, where they reinforced themselves nearly as well as a human player would have, and in fact they defended there successfuly any further try of penetration into their provinces!
In fact, they arrived in time to win, defending at Nuyssabin from nearly the half of the army that came from taking Damascus... the same army that had anhilated my cavalry army. Finally they were defeated in Nuyssabin and had to retreat, but they still defended successfully the Tripoli and Antioch provinces during the whole war, actually buying me a LOT more time than I expected for my final victory.
So much for IA stupidity, eh? And so much for being impossible to win attacking with clear inferiority and mountain terrain.
As I said, it was truly miraculous.
Next week, part 2 of the AAR.
How are you finding the David/Templar plot? Are you enjoying it, or maybe too confused or long?
First of all, sorry for the lack of updates. I have been charged this week into giving a pair of formation courses to clients, and that, added up to my normal workload have made me rest a bit from my translating tasks. Next week, I promise I will continue with the 2nd part of the AAR, 11 chapters in total, one each day during weekdays.
I feel the battle of the Ahora valley I have described and incorporated to my history desserves an explanation and a narration of its own about what happened in the game, since in game terms it was quite miraculous.
First, the battle of Hattin was the true child of my imprudence. I purpousfully tried to push the limits of the possibilities of my pure cavalry armies in plains and desert provinces. Up to that moment, I had always managed to win, even in 1 to 2 situations, without too many problem (as you will check by previous chapters).
The problem is the Seljuk army I found was 1 to 3. And since they had in those 30.000 troops, 7.000 cavalry on their own (against my 10.000 cavalry army), I lost my cavalry advantage. The gamer I have inside me told me "You have to flee. NOW." But... well... IA never tries to escape... so... well... I said... what the hell, let's see what happens. The next thing I saw was "Your army has been anhiliated".
And my little "test" was quite more expensive when I noticed 15 to 20 thousand troops from Kwazharim coming behind them. And the azerbaian army at the north... Well, as you will see in the beggining of the next chapter I took a loan (the only time I did in the whole game) and survived with new troops...
And now... the battle of Ahora valley, nearly happened just as I have narrated in my double final chapter. I really thought at the time that Saint James had appeared to them to kill the muslim army, throwing flaming arrows...
The thing happened as follows.
Obviously, I was allied with the Duchy of Antioch and the County of Tripoli, both my vassals. So, even when I never count on my allies troops in EU2 (with good reasons), I just counted on them to put some brakes at the army that was coming north from Azerbaian, that menaced my north flank, while I recovered from my particular Hattin. If they only bought me 6 months, I would have been very happy, even when they would have been anhilated as usual. Just time enough to use my newly bought cavalry and go north to save their asses.
To my dismay I saw ALL the Antioch and Tripoli army going north from the Nuyssabin(Edessa) province, going directly towards 25.000 troops, leaded by Pelihwan, a quite good leader, who were going to defend in mountain and with a 1 to 2'5 superiority...
I... well, you can guess I quite blasphemed at the stupidity of the IA of my allies, that charged into superior armies and thus getting anhilated instantly, instead of defending at their home and maybe win, giving me the time I needed. I looked at their lead, and I wrote down it was Raymond of Tripoli and some antioch leader... so I could remember it for the AAR as "The idiot who led his troops to get slaughtered". In fact, that was going to be my Hattin, when I thought of that at that point. I took a screenshot and I centered in rebuilding my strength
But then...
The next time I looked at that part of the screen... my eyes widened when I saw... They had won!!! They only had 5500 troops left, that after clearing the zone, came back to Antioch and Tripoli, where they reinforced themselves nearly as well as a human player would have, and in fact they defended there successfuly any further try of penetration into their provinces!
In fact, they arrived in time to win, defending at Nuyssabin from nearly the half of the army that came from taking Damascus... the same army that had anhilated my cavalry army. Finally they were defeated in Nuyssabin and had to retreat, but they still defended successfully the Tripoli and Antioch provinces during the whole war, actually buying me a LOT more time than I expected for my final victory.
So much for IA stupidity, eh? And so much for being impossible to win attacking with clear inferiority and mountain terrain.
As I said, it was truly miraculous.
Next week, part 2 of the AAR.
How are you finding the David/Templar plot? Are you enjoying it, or maybe too confused or long?
The David/Templar plot is very good. Of course, there are many many questions, some of which I hope you will get around to answering. It is a little confusing, but I reckon that's mostly because we don't (yet) know the whole story. A little confusion is no bad thing.
Good to see banning didn't come as I would have hated to see this go. I looked forward to part 2.
What Braedonnal said.
The last few chapters were simply breathtaking, man! I love the "fantasy" elements. Couldn't it be that David is an immortal vampire, suffering from amnesia?
Can't wait for chapter 2.
The last few chapters were simply breathtaking, man! I love the "fantasy" elements. Couldn't it be that David is an immortal vampire, suffering from amnesia?
Can't wait for chapter 2.
Really excellent work. You must keep your warning levels down. At least untill you finish this AAR. Then after that you can do whatever you want.
J/K Pdox
Great writting really.
J/K Pdox
Great writting really.
Lord G. Q. White said:Really excellent work. You must keep your warning levels down. At least untill you finish this AAR. Then after that you can do whatever you want.
I disagree
Lucius shold be a good boy EVEN when no writing AARs :rofl:
Gosh... big brother is watching me!
(actually, Kosh is a good friend even when I give him far more problems he desserves )
I plan to proceed with part two, "The Two Crusades", from this evening, where I will start with chapter 22, which will be the first of the eleven chapters that make up this second part. Parts will be writtenm, thus, today, sunday, and form then monday-friday x 2 (thus 5x2, making the remaining 10 chapters).
Part three is not yet written, not even in Spanish, and will be called "The Face in the Mirror". I will take my summer vacations (last two weeks of august) to start writing it. It will be the longer in a temporal sense, since it will stretch all the XIIIth century, from the aftermath of the fourth crusade to the First and Grand Jubilee of 1300, celebrated by Pope Bonifacius VIII, the great and magnificent Benedicto Gaetani, in the peek of his power.
Of course, there will be an epilogue after that.
EDIT: Errrrr... a nice biography of Napoleon is playing now on Tv when I had planned to translate chapter 22nd... Ahem, ahem... I swear I will make a double chapter tomorrow.
(actually, Kosh is a good friend even when I give him far more problems he desserves
)I plan to proceed with part two, "The Two Crusades", from this evening, where I will start with chapter 22, which will be the first of the eleven chapters that make up this second part. Parts will be writtenm, thus, today, sunday, and form then monday-friday x 2 (thus 5x2, making the remaining 10 chapters).
Part three is not yet written, not even in Spanish, and will be called "The Face in the Mirror". I will take my summer vacations (last two weeks of august) to start writing it. It will be the longer in a temporal sense, since it will stretch all the XIIIth century, from the aftermath of the fourth crusade to the First and Grand Jubilee of 1300, celebrated by Pope Bonifacius VIII, the great and magnificent Benedicto Gaetani, in the peek of his power.
Of course, there will be an epilogue after that
.EDIT: Errrrr... a nice biography of Napoleon is playing now on Tv when I had planned to translate chapter 22nd... Ahem, ahem... I swear I will make a double chapter tomorrow.
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