NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Closed, sorry.

1,800th post!

IC:

Like most advances throughout time, be it advances in technology, medicine, knowledge, or war, this quest to explore and discover new land was brought about by economic pressures. The intricate balance between the slightly delicate ecosystem of the two home-islands, West and East Alziba, and the Moors which inhabited had been something taken for granted for a long time. Land was usually plentiful, forests were still way too thick on the ground, and luxury items were easily had by those seeking them through the small High Elf ports on the East side of the island. Yet, growth, which had been very mellow, suddenly took off after farmers began in earnest to discover newer and better ways to cultivate their land.

Rubies, turquoise, and gold, high in price, became higher as an increasingly affluent middle class tried for a little bit of posh in their work-oriented lives. Land became, if not quite scarce, then at least more sought after then ever before. Timber, usually chocking out human settlements, was getting increasingly harder to get as most forests retreated to secluded areas. All in all, the society was starting to crack on the edges.

In order to prevent the higher class from doing something un-productive, as in shutting out the middle class from the luxuries market, in order to prevent the fishing industry from collapsing from high wood prices, in order to prevent increasing homeless rates the government took action.

In a never before seen of solidarity and force, Dukedoms from all across the islands took too cutting down trees, training their men, building water craft and creating the weapons of war. Their goal was quite simple, with the 'open season' for all resources outside pre-existing borders, money. So now, we look upon a society that is having several hundred sails being pushed off from sandy beaches, wind swept coastlines, and sprawling dockyards. Their goal is to get as much fame, glory, gold and land; to come back as a king to their families and friends.

Behind these sleek ships, there is a thousand years of designing, refining, a thousand years of battle-tested doctrine, and a thousand years of spirit. With just the slightest breeze these ships skim along the water, and when there is no breeze, out come the oars and so do the skills of the passengers. Rowing is something of a national sport, and even the most academic scholars of the most scientific oriented academy could put to shame many a Continental.

On these ships, we have walking tanks. Little cavalry, and the only archers are few and far between, due to the nature of the doctrine at the time. What is in abundance, more so then other militaries are siege weapons. Ballistae, catapults, and stout 'flak' weapons which shoot a literal storm of crossbow bolts.

The men are in armor from head to toe, with long double-edged swords wielded by an arm that is well muscled and well trained. The shield that they wield is akin to the Norman kite shield, so hated by just about every nation that ever encountered them, and about covers the whole body with only a few exposed parts. The few exposed parts like the shins, head, and feet would take a very skilled archer with more than a dab of luck.

They are used to it too, they are not going to be worn down by a couple hours of fighting, and these weapons are their clothes. Yes, they will notice the weight difference when they have it on and off, but beyond that, these ornaments of war are nothing more than how we feel about our arm or leg.

These little flotillas are usually centered on a Duke, or a particularly leader, who will likely become the new Baron, or outright king, of these new lands. In exchange for their help, he will likely reward them with as much as they can carry, if not more. Therefore, these men, in combination with their moral prerogative have a monetary reward as well, so no amount of hardship will detract these glorious conquerors from their ultimate goal of total war.

So as the sun awakens on the 8th day of traveling, fishing villages up and down the coast of Drekon, Carloginias and the Orange State awaken to the heavy tramp of boots, tense questions in a language that, except for a handful of deep sea anglers have never heard before. Some cooperate well; others try to have some attitude; only one of those types is spared the sword.

On the tenth day Uldarious Kiishra awaken to the happy pillaging and raping of their servants quarters. While their spirit and strength was many times greater than a single Moor, the vast quantity and surprise of the attack was too much. Weaponless, cut off from their lower minions, and faced for what could be said their first military encounter, it was butcher. It quickly became obvious to the Moors that siege weapons were the most effective, and that lesson, as the great Kiishra knocked aside swords and spear with ease, right before being shot through the heart by a ballista, did not go un-heeded.

In addition, Zhyolatska mountain fortresses were taken by surprise when refuges came streaming from areas around the river. It had not gone unscathed.

On the 11th day, Weccanfeld was plundered. Monasteries along the coast, known for their wealth and beauty, are prime targets. The gradual communication between the two on the high seas has now come to bite Weccanfeld in the ass; Moorish Dukes, 5 of the biggest, know of these stories and decided that a sure plunder, if in lesser quantity, is better than a greater plunder that may not actually be there. Of course, the temples, with their rather pathetic monks are easy pickings for the raiders. In addition, the temples were nicely designed as outposts, as well as a center for religion, in the older, more chaotic days. Making them great launch points for the parties.

On the eleventh day also, as the outposts and monastries were taken and plundered, the towerguards lit their pyres and released their pigeons, nearing the message "Send help. Humans attacking from Sea". A number of hours later, the pyres reached the cities of Heauhbeaorkg Ascke, the seat of the council of eleven, Aðeaxkeærkntoan-oangean-Nǽdre, the Grand Lizardfolk City, and Beahealedanegard, the Grand Lizard City's guard and the house of the Great Sea fleet. The flames lit around the nation. The Armies of the West were roused. The Gates of the military port of Beahealedanegard were opened, the fuel of the flame throwers replenised, and the ships pushed off, each unveiling its sail, each with the crimson eye on it. It was raining, heavily, and the piter-patering on the decks led many a sailor to slip, as the ships transversed through the gates, into the open sea. Their objective was to head toward a new lighthouse, built on the Crimson Cape, and stop the invading humans, who's sacerlige doomed them only to the worst of fates.

Meanwhile, on land, the head of the garison of Beahealedanegard readied his troops. From raw lorg-bearer recuit, to grenade totting siege engerneers and porters, to veteran archers and even to elite huscarl, not one unit type was spared, even in the nearby greater dragon towns, who also did their bit. All they awaited was the order to march the enemy into the sea, and they would rip the humans limb from limb, as they did a thousand years ago.

On the twelveth day, with the storm still continuing, a pigeon made it's way to the fort, with the orders to attack the invaders fiercely. They would pulverise them, and grind them into dust, then blast the dust to glass, and shatter them all over again. Such was the fate of humans.

The Army marched, and the Navy sailed. The greatest advantage was on land, as field battles were the Ligbrynians best area. Sieging the towers would be much of a problem - they were built by the Ligbrynians, after all, so all the nooks and craneys of them could, and would be exploited well. On sea, the advantage might be the Moors, but the flamers and lorg pikes would ensure that the ships would be a match. After all, their job was to mop up the routers, and return them to Ligbryne to recieve their punishment.

The Ligbrynians would be merciless toward the invaders. The small garisons and priests would be their only sucess.

(OOC: Wrote this from a Ligbrynian historian's point of view. You basically have a large army to fight, who won't let you go home if you surender. Sorry if it seems godmoddish, but from the post you made on the main thread it seems you didn't really expect this to be much of a sucess anyway.)

(OOC: Wrote this from a Ligbrynian historian's point of view. You basically have a large army to fight, who won't let you go home if you surender. Sorry if it seems godmoddish, but from the post you made on the main thread it seems you didn't really expect this to be much of a sucess anyway.)

No problem, I do, for the record, expect to win, this will be my first time doing PT battle, so I'll be fun-

IC:

Undoubtedly, it is fun for the assorted Overlords to watch their horde travel over the landscape in a dense mass of immense proportions, literally shoulder to shoulder, it likely inspires so many nationalistic feelings. Sadly, having your troops packed like sardines eliminates so many crucial factors, like room to fight, ability to see, ability to duck, ability to fire back. So when the trebuchets rope over wood sound, the flak wood thunk, and the few twangs of arrows are heard, the poor sub-humans are killed in more numbers then any sane person would want for their army.

Ships from the coast, knowing that the Dragonfolk are all too well aware of their abilities, fire with impunity their own Greek fire and rocks to add to the rather impressive artillery barrage, especially considering the technology.

The Moors do not quaver, they do not look back, and they make sure to look out for engines of war, which it looks like there are very few. They do see some interesting engineer looking units, but dismiss them for the most part, as topics that are more important come up, like living in the battle. Yet, they never once give into emotion, they are in the zone, they have known the meaning of defeat and they are not afraid, they know the meaning of death, they have looked it straight on, and spat in it’s, and defeats, face.


OOC: How exactly do you plan to attack the defense? There are several Monasteries, are you attacking them all at once or individually? Can they be attacked individually? Are your soldiers just going to try to fly on up the battlements? How are we going to decide if your grenadiers work or not? What will they do exactly? Will they blow a hole through the wall or will they be hand-sized grenades?

OOC: How exactly do you plan to attack the defense? There are several Monasteries, are you attacking them all at once or individually? Can they be attacked individually? Are your soldiers just going to try to fly on up the battlements? How are we going to decide if your grenadiers work or not? What will they do exactly? Will they blow a hole through the wall or will they be hand-sized grenades?

(OOC: I'm about to go to bed, so I'll just answer these questions, then do the actual reply tomorrow.

I'll attack them one after the other. They form a sort of line across the landscape, so they can. No, they'll knock the door down with a ram, though they might do that toward the end of the battle. If they hit or not. They're ceramic pots, with a small torch and a oil-like substance, though bigger ones do exist, so they work by bursting, setting on fire, and seeping though armour.

As for the first question, I plan to fire grenades at the doors with largeish slingshots, assualt the towers with covered rams, knock down the damaged door, start killing the occupants, while using ladders to tke the top of the tower. The outposts are only really medium sized stone towers, though I'll give you a proper stone keep to siege. That would make for a good climax.)

OOC: What about me, correct me if I'm wrong but I think it's kinda hard to hit Weccan with out going into waters that take you mighty close to me. If your forces chose to ignore than i will be sending reinforcements, if not than we'll just have to see how things go.

OOC: What about me, correct me if I'm wrong but I think it's kinda hard to hit Weccan with out going into waters that take you mighty close to me. If your forces chose to ignore than i will be sending reinforcements, if not than we'll just have to see how things go.

I kind of guessed on the whole 'what color is which' thing. Like, who is orange, who is pink? What is red and what is crimson? So after a couple of seconds of 'duh... duh...' I decided to wing it.

In other words, I'll get right on it.


IC:

As 'luck' would have it, the Kath'Jal suffer under the Gang of Three. Duke Asiago del Dulce, Sanz Margeilburn, and Duke von Geissbockheim are close friends since their days in the army and have made sure that their friendship will not be endangered by this latest adventure. Their combined forces equal something around ten-thousand men, and del Dulce has the largest Cavalry force in all of Moorington, something like one thousand Mailed Knights, and another 3 hundred as Mounted Crossbowmen. This, combined with the especially heavy infantry of von Geissbockheim, force posses a unique problem to the seemingly delicate balance of the Kath'Jal people, or as the initial landing people called them, 'InsectFolk'.

As what is becoming the norm across the Continent, the fishing villages and farming hamlets close to the ocean were the first to go. While most of these were only good enough to satisfy the thirst and hunger of the long traveled conquerors, several hand nice family heirlooms which were quickly appropriated by the Moors.

As the day progressed, they moved onto the towns which the fishing villages and farms supported. These, in some senses, were even more useless, but it did satisfy the strategists and leaders, who refused to be housed out of some over worked, under-maintained hovels. It also let the Moors get a better feel for the culture, and the delicate caste system which the Insectfolk culture was based off of.

I kind of guessed on the whole 'what color is which' thing. Like, who is orange, who is pink? What is red and what is crimson? So after a couple of seconds of 'duh... duh...' I decided to wing it.

In other words, I'll get right on it.OOC: Orange is Ezaltia, red is me, and crimison is Weccanfeld so I guess you got it right.:) Yet, you do not want to screw with me it seems as my forces can play a deciding factor against in your campiagns.;)

(OOC: Here's the reply I promised.)

As the barrage headed toward the Lesser Dragon forces, it took a fair number of them, but those ones that were lost were quickly replaced with others. The Phalanx still marched on toward the enemy, Lorgs pointed forward, and archers firing their bows toward the enemy. The siege engerneers ran in front of then enemy, and threw a number of grenades, the torches still lit despite the weather, and ran back to the line, a couple of them taken by the crossbow bolts. One grenadier in particular recieved a bolt to his bag of grenades, which burst into flames, killing the bearer.

As the lines closed, the Lorg-Bearers turned their polearms so that the hooks faced downward, ready to hook and chop: take the enemy's shields, pull them over, and drive the other, halbeld side into their spines.

(No sieging yet.)

OOC: Orange is Ezaltia, red is me, and crimison is Weccanfeld so I guess you got it right.:) Yet, you do not want to screw with me it seems as my forces can play a deciding factor against in your campiagns.;)

Aye, besides, at first glance you could even fall under the 'Folk' catergory; no pre-title, meaning you'll be just about human in our eyes.

(OOC: Here's the reply I promised.)

As the barrage headed toward the Lesser Dragon forces, it took a fair number of them, but those ones that were lost were quickly replaced with others. The Phalanx still marched on toward the enemy, Lorgs pointed forward, and archers firing their bows toward the enemy. The siege engerneers ran in front of then enemy, and threw a number of grenades, the torches still lit despite the weather, and ran back to the line, a couple of them taken by the crossbow bolts. One grenadier in particular recieved a bolt to his bag of grenades, which burst into flames, killing the bearer.

As the lines closed, the Lorg-Bearers turned their polearms so that the hooks faced downward, ready to hook and chop: take the enemy's shields, pull them over, and drive the other, halbeld side into their spines.

(No sieging yet.)

The besieged Moors lifted their shields and ducked behind the stout stone walls of the Monasteries, as the grenades, arrows, and other panoply of war came sailing in to batter themselves against stone and steel, flesh and bone. The grenades were particularly interesting to the assorted commanders, and the few that, for whatever reason, did not explode after flying into the fortification were quickly stored into chests, ready to be sent back to the Home Islands.

Mainly, the Moors continued last minute preparations for the siege, even as their numbers were picked off by the arrows literally blotting out the sun. Ceramic jars, full of hot boiling tar were prepared, as were second and third lines; the second around the inner courtyard, the third around the keep.

Standing shoulder to shoulder on the battlements, the Moors were mostly immune to the low penetrating power of the arrows, even if there were enough to make a pincushion out of everyone of them un-armored. As they stood there, the arrows failed to pick a way through their armor, some glanced off, some stabbed a short way before being stopped by the layers of defense, and some just broke, having their arrow head shattering against the shields. Of course, the other weapons exacted a toll, as the grenades were propelled by more then mere muscle, but it was a boost to their spirits, seeing the amount of projectiles arrayed against them, and affecting them so inadequately.

The use of projectiles and cavalry troops were not part of the doctrine mainly because the cramped fighting on islands, it is hardly needed. Some reservations about fighting without any good missile troops, or mobile troops, on the vast areas of the Continent were made, but now were quickly being silenced, unless superbly made bows were in abundance, or crossbows were, the Moorish juggernaut would not be affected.

The ships out at sea continued their bombardment of the forces, using their ships' catapults and flak, they managed to keep clear the thin strip of land between the embattled Moors and the beachhead. By using fire, stone, and steel; in conjunction with the weapons from the fort, so that the Dragonfolk decided that being hit from the front and year was not preferable to just the front.

A few of the sharpest shots, be it with their family's bow or the military issued crossbow, decided to take it upon themselves to start a fireworks show, exclaiming about how they were going to entertain. It seemed that crossbow hitting the bag full of the grenades, and the subsequent explosion, had left something an impression on these Moors. So now, they made sure to look out for the grenadiers and their tell-tale bag and armor configuration. It quickly became obvious that being a grenadier definitely had some short comings.

The Humans the Dragonfolk had fought in the past had been different, relying upon cavelry on field battles to fight. That type of warfare was useless against the tactics of the Ligbrynians. These humans were different. As they flocked into the castle, named Yðmearkea (meaning Waves in the Ligbrynian language, and in their eyes as long as it was named that, it was still Ligbrynian in their eyes.), the engerneers decided to change tactics. Unable to siege them, an assault was needed. The wet weather didn't help, and the engerneers changed roles, and quickly assembled an arrow-proof cover. Under it, a ram was constructed, and some soldiers, kited out with extra armour, picked it up and started to march. These soldiers were aware of the boiling oil, so the Ligbrynians brung out their second special weapon - the Eabonykboga. Made from the Ebony metal, and treated so it was able to be used as a bow, though it was still very hard to use, and expensive. However, it had enough power to rival the crossbow, still with the range of a longbow. Also, the thrid special weapon in the Ligbrynian armoury, the grenade slingshot, waas brung out. This was intended to keep the enemy's heads down, and also to burn down the door. It was used for both these purposes.

As the ram neared the burning door, the engerneers worked fiercely, assembling ladders, and using the grenade slingshots. With the ram a couple of paces away from the door, the carriers neriously waited for the men above to pour their boiling oil.

(OOC: Here's a idea, this battle could just be a big diversion, and you could attack my big city up north. It's got my thrid largest fortress, though, just to forwarn you. Although much of the garison is fighting here.)

(OOC: Here's a idea, this battle could just be a big diversion, and you could attack my big city up north. It's got my thrid largest fortress, though, just to forwarn you. Although much of the garison is fighting here.)

OOC: Nah, that wouldn't make enough sense, I think I'm going to duke if out here.

IC:

As the pinging noises of arrows falling upon stone and steel started to let up due to the increasingly arrow strapped archers of the Dragonfolk, the Moors found for the first time a consistent killer. A rather awkward looking bow, that seemed not to be made out of wood, or other kind of conventional materials, but out of steel. This bow flung its missle straight and true every time, and while it could only fire once or twice a minute it, by itself, almost rivaled the arrows of the whole army through the amount of casualties it induced. Of course, it was completely unacceptable to high command, who ordered their soldiers to consider ducking behind the defenses, and let the siege engines get to work. Who quickly got to work finding the right range for their weapons.

It was quickly found out that the grenades were quite fragile, and that given only a good hit, they would explode prematurely. So a system was quickly devised using two ballistae and some wood. Pushing and pulling two ballistae up to one of the ramparts, they built a rope mesh and tied it with some more rope to the two bolts so that when fired, the bolts propelled the screen towards the grenade. Then, with a good amount luck, it would 'capture' it in mid-air and cause the grenades descent away from the battlements and towards their opposites, their opponents. Of course, this system was very rudimentary and due to a variety of factors, grenades got in, but at least not the full compliment, which was more then good enough for the Moors.

As the ram came up towards the cobblestone path of the monastery the Dragonfolk would find that quite a few of the stones were nothing more then a thin facade, as their ankle would drop a half a foot, or so, and snap. Making the process severely more time consuming, more moral consuming, and more energy consuming. It seemed that the Moors had not been too infatuated with looting that they didn’t add some more defenses to the concern.

In little slits, hacked out for the gate, crossbow men fired blindly, hoping to hit a few Dragonfolk.

Behind the gate, a adhoc defense line was made, using sharpened stacks theybuilt a half circle around the entrance, and built a little trench right in front, and right behind. Also, most of the missile troops were stationed there, as were 2 flak weapons, all aiming for the eventual breakthrough by the Dragonfolk.

As the ram ascended the cobblestone path, the soldiers found, to their discomfort, that the path was hollow. Some of the stones broke away, however this did not have as good an effect as the Moorish hoped for - the strength of the Dragonblood existed in their bones, therefore injury was averted somewhat. However, the path did sucede in slowing down the invaders, however this only delayed the inevitable. More and more ladders were constructed, and the heavily armoured ram-bearers would distract the enemy inhabiting the castle from the walls.

The first bash of the door signifed the appearance of the Lesser Dragon's at the door. They wanted to come in. And they would bash down the door if they needed.

Also, the ladders started to near the doors, as the ram neared. The assault was underway.

Snippet

While the Dragonfolk understood that the cobblestone path was hollow, they did not understand why. Actually, none of the cobblestones were supposed to break, but the workers didn't bring into account the enemies they were facing, namely their weight.

So as the first thud of the ram hit the gate, vats of tar were poured into the aforementioned trenches, located in front of and behind the row of stakes, and the oily liquid bubbled and hissed as it traveled its course underneath the cobblestone path. The Dragonfolk, maybe some of the smarter or more nervous ones, noticed, maybe a minority of those ran, yet for the most part what kind of true warrior would stay rational at that point? What kind of Dragonfolk soldier would think of anything but dismembering their foe, limb by limb? The answer: very little.

So as the black substance traversed its course underneath the battering ram, it leaked out in a few places, in a few of the broken cobblestones. As luck would have it, those areas allowed oxygen into the blaze, which had not yet been started. As observers from the top, using spyglasses to make sure, noticed that the herald of flame was leaking out on some of the broken stone's on the other side, which had taken all of 40 seconds, the signal was given.

Torches were thrown down and the tar immediately blazed into life. As the fire leapt towards the gate and underneath it, the wooden supports supporting the cobblestone were incinerated, and given the weight on top of them, snapped like a toothpick. A picture from hell it was, with the stone giving out from underneath their very feet to be replaced by a burning fire that once attached to a leg or other limb, wouldn't go out as it was slapped by a frantic hand, or a bucket of water; as being the nature of tar fire.

Therefore, it could be safe to say, the ram and its technicians, as well as the swarm of Dragonfolk in near it, expecting to rush in and slay some puny humans, were put to death and flight.

The ladders were a rather effective means of stretching the cramped muscles of the Moors, but even a force of thousands is reduced to only a handful, as the bottleneck of the ladder itself make it unable for more then a handful of soldiers to fight at once. In addition, the Moors are quite used to fighting in a confined space; it is one thing to fight in a nice open field, with lines of troops facing off and fighting. It is an entirely different scenario when you are in a brawl of constantly shifting lines and people. Used to fighting from the heavily fortified Polis' of Moorington, this is like second nature, and they make, if not quick work, then at least easy work of the Dragonfolk.

That is not to say it is not difficult, or that Moors don't die, but the likelihood of a of the Dragonfolk seizing any portion of the walls is far-fetched. For as every Moor falls, the wide ramparts allow quick replacement, while the think ladders hardly can keep a foothold; it occupies the Moors, creates a few casualties, and does cause a few beads of sweat to break out on the Generals, but not much more.

Somewhere in a small nation (or a very large city state, depending on your point of view)...
"So that settles it. We will make formal alliance with these invaders, if they manage to retain their beachhead, and help them crush the Semshimistha, and the Ligbrynians."

The gathered 'war council' murmured with discontentment.

"But we are too small to fight against both those nations at once!"

"Not to worry, I believe I have a plan which will allow us to make great sweeping advances against both of them without too much risk on our part..."

(OOC: Okay, time for a revisal of my tactics. Anyone up for a bonfire on the water?)

The Ligbrynian generals had hoped for a quick fight, but it seemed that for now, the Moors were here to say. All they needed to do was to make their stay as uncomfortable as possible.

The trump card of the Ligbrynians was the dragon. The ships were made of wood. Dragons could breathe fire. Although things would be much simpler if the water-borne dragons of the Inner Sea were here, they weren't, so they would have to perservere.

A cliff overlooked the battleground. The Igneous rock made them dark, so when a dark figure emerged from the unseen side, it went unnoticed, save for some parinoid Moors, who couldn't validate the claim. The Greater Dragon, it's aim to glide and incinerate the docked ships, was donned in heavy armour, although it was mere ebony alloy, rather than the pure stuff. Testing it's breath, it jumped from the cliff, gliding as far as it could, and summoned it's breath to burn the ships. The suprise was it's main guard, but arrows would soon start flying, as they did half way though her strafing run. Some pierced her wings, causing her great pain, but only crossbows would stand a chance of piercing her armour. She got three quarters of the way past the shipfront, before she couldn't get any futher. She slammed into the deck, admired the damage she had done, but winced as crossbows started firing. She prepared to jump the rest of the way, when the bolt from a ballista pierced her wing. She backed away from the nearing crewmen, and hopped onto the aft castle, looking for a way to escape, the sea seeming her only option. Unfortunally, her armour would make the swim difficult, at best.

The tar did have an fine effect on the Ligbrynian ram bearers, causing some to run, and anothers to die, but the Ligbrynians lived near much hotter substances. So while burns were caused, and the ram dropped, the still walking and brave soldiers simply instigated plan B; burn the door down. But, with the depleted amount of soldiers, they decided not to charge, and simply set fire to the door. Using scraps of arrow shield, the Ligbrynians simply jogged back to their lines, and insted decided to stay put, and starve the invaders out with time and siege bombardment. Trenches were dug, and tents were put up, but the special archers still kept the barrage up, and as the siege engerneers worked and worked, some even digging tunnels to collapse the walls in the long term, more interesting weapons sprung up, such as a mortar with delivered grenades into the castle, and the basic foundations of a siege tower. The Moorish bombardment still continued, however, killing other soldiers, but it was reduced somewhat after the attack by the lone dragon.

(OOC: Okay, now, I've settled down for the long term. I've had a go at burning your ships, and I suppose that a good deal of them were lighted. Keep in mind you might just be able to save some of them though firefighting, but you'll still lose a good number of them. Definately under three thrids. I'd say just over half, but your free to define your own number.)

Snippet

OOC: How about we go half-and-half? I concede one point and you concede the other? Because A: I doubt my boat captains are going to be like 'Wow, look at that terrifying dragon as it immolates us with fire from above! Lets continue to watch!' They are going to fire back, and they are likely going to scatter, making it very hard for the 'short range' dragon to destroy half of my rather well sized fleet.

Secondly, or point B, I don't care if you live in the Sahara desert, boiling tar on fire slowly eating away at your skin is going to cause injury, your skin is tough, tough enough to bat aside arrows from smaller bows, but it isn't that tough. Besides, I checked your factbook before coming up with the tar underneath the cobblestone idea, nothing there even hinted at a ability to be resistant to extreme heat; don't say something like since they're dragon-like they should be, the purpose of a factbook is to tell everything, not just the bits and pieces you feel like revealing.

So, for the sake of the RP, lets say the Dragon destroys half of my fleet, but your Dragonfolk are devastated? I'm not saying you don't have an army left, no, no, but lets say something around a 5th of your forces are dead or a casualty out for the fight.

Sound good?

As for the overall picture, how is it, you think? Right now we have something like 5,000 Moors in one Monastery, with what, 5 Monasteries in total? Of those 5,000 in the first one 1500 are out for the fight? What kind of casualties are you seeing for your forces? As for my navy, of a full compliment of 150 ships 78 are destroyed, but about a good 2/3 of their crew survive? Maybe only a third?

(OOC: I never said it didn't. Keep in mind I didn't say a number. It could have been any normal number. I just don't think that tar that covers the feet can kill huge amounts and scare the other soldiers, when they're familiar with that stuff. Anyway, it's only about two dozen soldiers we're on about, so we might as well forget it, and not have a 3 page arguement about it. I'm willing to comprimise if it's a major problem. Also, my factbook isn't finished yet. It's still a work in progress. I update it from time to time. As for the heat resitant skin, that's a mistake on my part. I have a similar FT people, and I got mixed up. Sorry about that.

As for the arrows, I said they had extra heavy armour, and had salvaged arrow shields. As in, things made primarily for the purpose. It did seem that that you lot weren't taking causauties before I brought out the superbows (the metal ones.), so I thought that things would be similar.

And as for the 5th, that would be reasonable. Tell you what, I'll up the count of wounded dragons from one to five. There we go. As for the arrow things, I was thinking a smaller cove than what you must be thinking. There is a storm brewing, you know.

And finally, I'll admit that this is my second PT style battle, and my first siege and large scale one. So, keep in mind I'm likely to make the odd mistake.

And the picture is pretty much similar to what you said. I'll go with that.)

Snippet

OOC: Still, there are a few more slight issues, like if there were only a few dozen, won't that make it that much easier for my forces to blunt the attack? Namely, with the vast amount of my missile troops around there, wouldn't the majority of them been picked off? From your previous posts it didn't seem like a dozen, two dozen, or even three dozen, it seemed like all your forces were doing some sort of Helm's Deep all or nothing action.

There was more to the tar then boiling tar, it was on fire, which undoubtedly affect more then the feet. That of course implies that they keep their balance and don't fall over as the ground gives and fires belch out.

That was a major coup, no amount of bickering over the details should prevent the final outcome; heavy casualties.

Also, a lot of that last post seems rushed; one second your pulling back, the next all sort of long term siege stuff is happening, lets keep it at a reasonable pace shall we?

Still, most of this will be a moot point in a little time-

IC:

After putting to flight the initial attacks on the first Monastery, and being lit on fire by the dragon, the Moors were at a neutral viewpoint as to this little endeavor. They were still enjoying their time, congratulating themselves on the loot they had stored away in their rooms, and what kind of heroes they will be especially with a good couple renditions of this tale. Yet, they were quickly bored with the whole siege thing. Loot had been captured, places had been ransacked, overall a successful campaign. Actually, the only thing staying their departure was the impossibility of getting all of their loot and men on the ships to depart.

So, a different, non-unilateral, decision must be reached.

As gleeful Moors poured water by the hundreds of gallons via-ship pumps to soak, and ultimately incapacitate the tunneling, as the previous adhoc system of catching grenades before they could cause damage was directed to the long range version, and as the trebuchets continued their barrage, a diplomat was sent out under the white flag.

(Basically, you can send him back minus the head, or not.)

The man under the white flag walked freely down to the lines of the Ligbrynian lines, despite dirty looks from the soldiers. The rain had started falling heavily, stopping all tunneling, which gave the soldiers a bit of a rest, but the previous days had been exhausting. Friends had died, people had been maimed, and rumours of shady merchants selling drugs had begun to spread. The soldiers drunk drink after drink of soldier's beer, a beverage that contained no alcohol, but kept their spirits up. It would be called tea in our world.

The trenches were begining to flood, as well. The swamp heritage was still there, but disease was a constant possiblity. Archers who just couldn't be arsed firing at targets that had too much armour for their bows sat down, some sleeping, some drinking, some playing games. They had their arms nearby and most of their armour on though, for if they didn't, they risked the painful feeling of the lash.

Futher back from the line, as the ambassidor saw more of the line, he saw the domestic facilities. He saw what looked like a hospital, though it was devoid of patients. He also saw a fry-up going on, though the meat disturbed him somehow, as if it were his. If he knew what the meat was, however, he'd almost certainly run straight back to the castle and stay there.

He then entered the tent, and saw three officers discussing something over a map. It was in their native tounge, but he glimpsed a map, with a line from the coast he had grown familiar with, to a large urban area up north. Two of the officers had their military apparel on, black armour with a gold outline that seemed to flow, like golden veins with golden blood. The other just had an apron on, with dry blood on, his hands red with blood. He guessed he was the surgeon. That one lifted his head, and said, in a similar lanugage to his, one that he could understand, without confidence:

"I am surgeon of this, er, army. I speak human tounge. You understand me, yes?"

The messenger nodded. He could. Just.

"Good, good, you want to leave, yes?"

He nodded again. "He have what we need."

The officers and surgeon talked for a moment, and replied.

"You may..."

The ambassador grinned slightly. He could go home. But the lizard creature had more to say:

"...on condition you, er, give back everything you steal, your leader swear by Léoreadneask that you are sorry for destorying our monastries, you never attack here again, and you tell us where you come from. All this from your leader, you understand?"

The other two officers smirked like miscievous children, showing their teeth, and looked at the Ambassador intently, awaiting his reply.

On the first day of the infamous Moorish raids, the coastlines of many Selucian villages were filled with fishing boats and no military ships were in sight. This was quite normal, as most of the Selucian navy was stationed in the coastal city of Coralis, and no one really wanted to go out of their way to defend tiny, insignificant villages such as these. It was around noon when several fishermen from one of the northern villages claimed to have seen dozens of foreign ships filling the horizon while hauling in their catch. The village elders didn't believe them and claimed that they were just seeing things, so the village had no time to prepare a proper militia before the invaders finally landed on their shores...

It was but a few days after the humans had started pillaging along the coast that the Kath'Crith ordered ordered one of the special task forces (groups of about seven or so highly skiled lymantri battle-mages) to test the human forces by taking back a near by fishing village.

The retaking took only a few hours, there was only a few dozen of the humans occupying the town and most where not awake the strike came. Those that were awake recived a crossbow bolt in the head or neck fired from about 20 meters. Those found asleep or just waking where cut down beneth the impressive skimitar skills of these purpose trained special soldiers. It was not untill they reached the local fish curring depot that they even needed magic.

When reached the fish curring depot they found the rest of the humans huddled togeather, wepons drawn, full armor on and ready to fight for their lives. When they at last surrounded them almost at once they all drew their skimitars made specicly to direct lightning pointed at them and let forth as much lightning and they dared use at once. The lightning was devistating to the soldiers, their heay armor which was ment to protect them only amplified the electric curent as it jumped from person to person. This 'liberation' was an exersise in the savagery of Kath'Jal.

Kudos everybody and the well-written, and in the case of Weccanfield, lengthy replies. Makes me proud to be part of such a group-

Will post tomorrow, just wanted you all to know that I was indeed reading, just to lazy to post.

Snippet

OOC: Now I could either start whining about how you Godmodded, about how you dictated my casualties, took that position from me without me being able to do anything ect al. Yet, I understand the final result wouldn't have been any different, and since I just want to RP, and not get into too many arguments, I'm just going to post. Unlike other individuals we know.

So that took out something like 20-25 guys?

IC:

The first to find the dead Moors was a detachment of 25 Mailed Cavalry from Duke Asiago. Awed by the destruction, and the speed at which is had happened, they were the first to report to the Duke himself.

While initially dismissive, he was finally cajoled into coming to the little fishing village to see the damage himself. After examining the area, he could not deny what he was seeing, magic in abundance controlled by his opponents. Hoping that this kind of firepower was something unusual, something not the norm, in these new lands he got together several bands of his most dedicated soldiers to go out and try to find whoever did this.

Elsewhere, the other Dukes were happily moving deeper inland, but were often stopped by even the most insignificant hamlet as each one was needed to be assigned one of the three Duke's territory, and each one assigned to one of the Baron's under their command.

Snippet

The first Moors to hit the beach provided a good show to the assembled town. Medium sized, calling to each other in a rather guttural language, covered head to toe in glinting steel they seemed to be rather good at teamwork. Pushing and tugging their ships on shore so that more of their fellows could be brought on to dry land. A slight rocking motion to their gait revealed that they were used more to the sea, then dry land, and quite a few even managed to lose their balance.

Once enough of them had gotten on shore, they stopped, and organized themselves into geometrical shapes, like squares and triangles. They then spread out, and any villagers who got in their way were pushed aside, not really in anger, but just in a efficient mindset.

Once it had been established that they were there to stay and that they needed to see the Village Elder, a few minutes of gesturing and common symbols was the main form of communication, he was brought out. The Moors, obviously intelligent beings, had already established a handful of words, and gotten rather proficient at hand symbols, pointing and gesturing. Once it became clear that these raiders wanted all the valuables, a pledge from the assorted people to these new "Duke's". A no answer, from anyone, would be replied by a affirmative action, as indicated from a slicing motion across the neck by the Moorish dignitary.

"...on condition you, er, give back everything you steal, your leader swear by Léoreadneask that you are sorry for destorying our monastries, you never attack here again, and you tell us where you come from. All this from your leader, you understand?"

The other two officers smirked like miscievous children, showing their teeth, and looked at the Ambassador intently, awaiting his reply.

OOC: A little off topic, how many grenades do you think I have? You know, if I wanted to replicate them or something...

IC:

The bulky jacket and trousers, of obviously high quality, were used on only special accessions; anyone of power new what the outfit indicated and that was why the Moors had sent him in it. Yet, the ambassador was feeling increasingly hot under the glint coming from the Lizardfolk eye's.

"You must understand," he began, "our Dukes hardly feel threatened, and can hardly go back now. As they have already requested more troops to help them on this glorious crusade, to have the new boats and new Moors on them to get here, then be told we have already sued for peace, that given up this land which we have fought and died for, is not something we want. We are expecting a heroes welcome, nothing short of that will be acceptable.

"How about, we have this thin strip of land, in exchange, we promise to never attack or undermine your efforts on the Continent? This small strip of land, maybe 5 miles deep, will hardly affect your national pride, but will mean so much to us. As well, this will undoubtedly help improve the popular view of Moors for sub-humans; no offense."

Once again, the dignitary felt his layered outfit's collar, it was rather hot in the suit...

OOC: Now I could either start whining about how you Godmodded, about how you dictated my casualties, took that position from me without me being able to do anything ect al. Yet, I understand the final result wouldn't have been any different, and since I just want to RP, and not get into too many arguments, I'm just going to post. Unlike other individuals we know.

So that took out something like 20-25 guys?

IC:

The first to find the dead Moors was a detachment of 25 Mailed Cavalry from Duke Asiago. Awed by the destruction, and the speed at which is had happened, they were the first to report to the Duke himself.

While initially dismissive, he was finally cajoled into coming to the little fishing village to see the damage himself. After examining the area, he could not deny what he was seeing, magic in abundance controlled by his opponents. Hoping that this kind of firepower was something unusual, something not the norm, in these new lands he got together several bands of his most dedicated soldiers to go out and try to find whoever did this.

Elsewhere, the other Dukes were happily moving deeper inland, but were often stopped by even the most insignificant hamlet as each one was needed to be assigned one of the three Duke's territory, and each one assigned to one of the Baron's under their command.

OOC:
Don't worry 20-25 was what I was aiming for and I do realise it was a bit god-modish but since it was such small village with a small occupation force I figured it wouldn't make that much of a difference. Also distrucive magic is not common, there are only a handful of these task forces and they won't be showing up on any battle feilds their job is small things like this. This was ment to be more of a show of power in an atempt to drive you back.

OOC: A little off topic, how many grenades do you think I have? You know, if I wanted to replicate them or something...

IC:

The bulky jacket and trousers, of obviously high quality, were used on only special accessions; anyone of power new what the outfit indicated and that was why the Moors had sent him in it. Yet, the ambassador was feeling increasingly hot under the glint coming from the Lizardfolk eye's.

"You must understand," he began, "our Dukes hardly feel threatened, and can hardly go back now. As they have already requested more troops to help them on this glorious crusade, to have the new boats and new Moors on them to get here, then be told we have already sued for peace, that given up this land which we have fought and died for, is not something we want. We are expecting a heroes welcome, nothing short of that will be acceptable.

"How about, we have this thin strip of land, in exchange, we promise to never attack or undermine your efforts on the Continent? This small strip of land, maybe 5 miles deep, will hardly affect your national pride, but will mean so much to us. As well, this will undoubtedly help improve the popular view of Moors for sub-humans; no offense."

Once again, the dignitary felt his layered outfit's collar, it was rather hot in the suit...

The surgeon's pupils thinned, and he glanced at the two officers. He lifted up one finger, and said two words. The diplomat guessed that this ment 'One Second'. The translator leaned over the table, and rested his hands on the table, as if he was about to jump. But instead, he said: "Those requests are very...brash indeed. Do you not think that the deaths of our own aren't nearly as terrible as yours? It seems as if you see us as...inferior versions of yourselves. Others would not be so forgiving." He glanced at the other officers again, and looked back at the diplomat.

"As I was saying, others would not be so forgiving. We were never humans, we never will be, and we certainly won't be paying them off with tribute. The soldiers you say sail here will be countered by our own renforcements. Even if you force us to retreat, we've always been better at defense, and you will find that life will become just that bit harder. No, the land will remain ours. Every last inch of it. I advise you revise your demands, as every person in this camp has been brought up to hate your kind, and it would be such a...shame if the cease-fire were to end, prematurely, yes?"

The two officers shuffled with impatientance, wondering what piece of this new breed tasted best. They even had lit a fire, especially for the intruder, outside. Seasoning was on another table - the equivalents of salt, pepper, and certain herbs rested on it. They were hoping that the diplomat would refuse, so they could start their business with him theirselves. But, the surgeon wanted the war to end. Infuriated by the human's demands internally, he tried his best not to show it, but the rate of breathing might give him away.

In truth, many more troops were avilable if needed. Two other main fortresses existed in the nation, ready to send aid, and each of the noble families could commit if needed as well. The tunnels would be finished, one day, and the walls would crumble, one as well. The Ligbrynians made this outpost, and they knew how to demolish it. The temple it used to be had been destoried.

If the Moors were repelled, and they did indeed have renforcements, they will have lost the element of suprise. The Ligbrynians were manic builders, and before long basic fortifcations could be erected. Given enough time, more elborate ones could be built. The largest city existed in the north, and the Ligbrynians weren't just going to let their interests be threatened.

OOC: A couple dozen, I'd say.

Once it had been established that they were there to stay and that they needed to see the Village Elder, a few minutes of gesturing and common symbols was the main form of communication, he was brought out. The Moors, obviously intelligent beings, had already established a handful of words, and gotten rather proficient at hand symbols, pointing and gesturing. Once it became clear that these raiders wanted all the valuables, a pledge from the assorted people to these new "Duke's". A no answer, from anyone, would be replied by a affirmative action, as indicated from a slicing motion across the neck by the Moorish dignitary.

The village was thrown into a panic when the Moors landed on the beach. Most of the villagers hid in their homes, fearful for their lives, while the more curious ones gathered around the beach to watch the foreigners disembark from their strange vessels. As the Moors began pouring out from their boats, they quickly shoved away the observing villagers, sending most of them running back to their homes. A few of the more intelligent Moors quickly learned some important Selucian phrases while questioning villagers, finding the language quite similar to their native Moorish tongue. The soldiers demanded that the villagers bring out their village elders, who agreed without any resistance. The Moors made it clear that they wanted everything valuable in the village as a tribute to their Duke, which worried the people. The village was extremely poor, and they couldn’t afford to give all of their possessions to the strangers. As the villagers began to get restless, the Moors gathered everyone into the village square and attempted to keep them under control.

Some brave villagers quickly snuck off and armed themselves with makeshift weapons like harpoons, daggers, and short spears. Determined to defend the village with their lives, they took position behind various buildings, boulders, and trees and harassed the Moorish soldiers with their harpoons. Being experienced fishermen, many of the harpoons hit their marks, severely injuring or killing their targets. The situation quickly melted into chaos; villagers began running and screaming, the village elders were quickly rushed off to safety, and Moors began cutting down anyone who appeared to be a threat. The fastest man in the village was ordered to alert a nearby military outpost and request for assistance, and he quickly sprinted away, hoping that when he returned the village would still be in one piece.

After the retaking of the small fishing village by Task Force Brass (all task forces are named after metals) it seamed that the humans who they now knew called themselves Moors seemed to show no slowing in their attempts to overthrough Kath'Jal. It was obvious that they needed to make a proper stand. Thus the Kath'Crith orederd a large scale mobilization of troops to meet the Moornish forces outside Cliff'Salk tha capital of Cliff'Jal.

OOC: decided to do something to help revive this RP. Moorington let me know how big of an army you would be brigng to take a capital so i can age a feeling for how big my army should be.