Social Studies, historical rp.
Vascilia City, Mars. 2885 A.D.
'Well, it's two o'clock and we all know what that means...' said a young female teacher as she turned to write on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. The children groaned.
'History is so boring!' said a young boy, no older than eight years of age. 'All we ever learn about is dumb walls and stupid pieces of paper...' said another boy.
The teacher smiled and said calmly, 'The Hellespontos Defense Wall isn't stupid, Tuommy.'
'Yes. It is. Why can't we just have gym all day Mrs. Unther?' said young Tuommy Valdivan. 'Because, if you didn't learn anything, your father would be very angry with me. Now, open your social studies books to chapter two. Today, we are going to cover some ancient history.'
On the whiteboard it simply read "The Beer War of 544 A.D."
'It's going to be cold this winter. Long too.' said Nabahl'Zhentar. A group of men were leaning, using the length of their shovels as support, taking a moments rest. The crop hadn't yielded as much barley as they would have hoped for and winter was fast approaching. It was going to be a real bad winter.
'What are we going to do Nabahl'Zhentar?' asked Hurod'Shamahn, son of Abu'Dartand...the owner of the plantation. 'Our families will starve this winter. We'll go with out food and drink. This is a tragedy.' Hurod'Shamahn continued in detail.
'We will knock the rust from our swords and go south, Hurod'Shamahn. We will go south.'
Melting snow dripped from the messenger's cloak and boots as he walked into the warm throne room of the large castle in the center of the city of Bryn Shander. It had been far colder than normal this year, and summer simply didn't come. The previous winter had turned to spring, and spring to an early fall. It was only September, but snow already blanketed the ground in the lowlands around the sounds. Usually, the first snow wasn't until early December.
"My King, I've ridden all night from Belierin. Our scouts have spotted a large barbarian army marching south from the mountains. We estimate that they'll be upon our borders within a tenday."
"This is... Unfortunate." sighed the king. "It will take at least a that long to gather our armies. We won't be able to move our forces to the border before the barbarians arrive. We'll have to evacuate the borderlands to the south."
The Bryn Shanderan king quickly scribbled the evacuation order onto a strip of parchment and marked it with the royal seal, handing it to the messenger.
"Take this back to Belierin and notify the mayor of Bytopia to prepare his defenses and get ready for the influx of refugees."
"Yes, my King. I will leave immediately."
The messenger tool the evacuation order and departed quickly, riding off and taking the road north.
The news of the invasion and evacuation order spread quickly. The people in the north quickly gathered their belongings and flooded the trade roads with wagons and beasts of burden, heading south towards safety. The border cities were prepared for the invasion, their valuables and food stores also shipped south and the defenses subtly sabotaged. At Bytopia, the fortification of the city's defenses began almost immediately. The countryside population quickly fell back into the city to be protected by the high stone walls. At the twin cities of Dothion and Shurrock, the same thing was happening.
The border towns would be left empty for the Aumanii to prevent loss of life and infrastructure. However, the Aumanii would find their advance south to be far more costly.
A scout clattered up the rocky road, 'Hail!' he shouted. The Chieftain of the Aumanii tribes, Krataj'Meilonek simply nodded and waited for the scout to report. 'The Cavalry has advanced many days ahead of the main Army. I would say they are on the attack, as it has taken me many days to get back to you.'
Krataj'Meilonek stroked his long, grey, beard. His steely blue eyes surveyed the sky. 'Good. I am pleased by these tidings. The Army will be able to occupy the conquered lands by the harvest moon. Return to Marshall Unther and tell him to drive as far south as possible and not to harm the peasants. We just want their harvests. I will not have blood on my conscience.'
'Yes Krataj'Meilonek, we were under the assumption that we were not to...indulge ourselves. I will be returning to my unit then?' asked Scoutmaster, referred to simply as Srdj.
'Yes. Carry on with your duties.' said Krataj.
'Thank you, Chieftain.' said Srdj, snapping off a quick salute before turning his horse and riding down the rocky pass.
'Oh!' called out Krataj, Srdj stopped and looked back. 'The Oracle says, be on the watch for a Raven. One, flying alone, with a mouse clutched in its claw.'
Srdj nodded solemnly. Even the suggestion of a bad omen was bad for a mission of this scale...and he assumed it would not be good to see this bird as the Chieftain didn't seem pleased at the prospect of seeing it.
'Keep your horses out of the fields! bellowed Marshall Unther at the left flank of his formation. 'We mustn't destroy the crop!' echoed his second in command, Jaeger Fahlden'stern.
A Shanderese peasant farmer, desperate to protect his fields, stood at the side of the road holding up a pitchfork. Unther kept his men under strict orders. Protect the crops and spare the citizenry. The Marshall watched as one of his men, Zemel'caine, drew his family's blade, Tolst.
'Run home, boy!' said Zemel'caine, booming with pride, before he swiped his blade at the peasant. Unther watched scornfully for a moment, before the poor slob fell on his backside, holding two neatly cut halves of his pitchfork.
Zemel'caine and his blade were sharp, agile and most of all swift. Unther, after a night of drinking said in an almost admiring tone, 'He is one of the three finest horseman in the land...After myself.'
'And the Chieftain of course?' said one of Unther's companions, to which he replied sarcastically, 'Why not.'
Of course, like in any evacuation, there were always those who chose to stay behind in an effort to protect their property. While a natural instinct, it was often a foolish one. Hundreds of people throughout the northwest failed to evacuate to the south, and hundreds were cut down by the Aumanii barbarians. The men of one small hamlet near Belierin, a small group of hovels that went by the name of Deer Creek, were different. They had sent their families and their belongings to the south, but stayed behind themselves and retreated to the nearby woods when the Aumanii arrived, setting up dozens of traps and using their hunting and woodsman skills to ambush the Aumanii scouts and patrols.
Back in Bytopia, the soldiers were making use of the huge influx of refugees to construct a new stockade and moat several hundred feet from the existing stone walls. Inside the stockades, trebuchets were constructed and rigged to be immolated should the stockades fail and the Aumanii come close to capturing them.
Smaller catapults were placed on the stone walls alongside the thousands of archers that were conscripted from the skilled refugees. Likewise, woodsmen became axemen and ranchers became cavalry. The men without special skills became spearmen. The Aumanii apparently wanted a fight, and they'd surely get one.