Happy reading!!
The sentries at the bulwark hollered a warning as the enemy neared the gray, stone walls of the castle. At the lead of the incoming attack was a general dressed in fine Armour fitted on his chest snuggly. He wore a red cape on his back which was flying by the early morning wind.
Behind him were two lieutenants, followed by hundreds of clad-iron figures all carrying the same insignia on their chests: a purple coat of arms with a skull and three silver swords sticking out of it.
They were coming at a fast pace, keeping the steady clatter of their boots as they moved. Their swords and crossbows keeping with the rhythm of their leather footwear.
The sentries called the alarm. They pulled a small bell fashioned out of bronze activated by pulling a string. When tugged, it sent vibrations to the other towers.
The other eight towers caught the alarm and readied the men stationed there.
Each of the tower commanders were busy with preparations and they all forgot about telling the castle lord about the problem at hand.
But King Z28HeavyChevy The Conqueror, as he was named by the royal emperor, was already alert as he sat perched at the keep, seeing the motion of a tiny figure pulling a bell.
Krakenberg, which was the capitol’s name, was a relatively small castle. It wasn’t a real kingdom, rather a small fief. King Chevy was also really a baron, and only earned his title for his prowess in battle.
His knuckles whitened at the banister. His defenders were not ready for the attack. He knew it and was dreading it. The Emperor's herald had notified him and the surrounding barons and kings.
The Emperor had started a War Of The Realms against a foreign nation, for reasons no one really knew, but no one dared to ask anyway.
But all King Chevy knew at this moment that he was going to be destroyed.
The king stared at the village and was caught up in his own thoughts. He was abruptly stopped as a the knocker rapped on the wood door leading to the tower room. The supreme general walked into the tower without waiting for a reply and stood next to the castle lord. Usually, in an emergency it was protocol to enter immediately. The commander fidgeted nervously with his watch and opened his mouth to speak, but Chevy raised his hands for silence.
“Yes, I know about the attack… I can see the motion from below from here.”
“Okay…” Said general Zurich, his watch still in between his thumb forefinger, “any ideas of defence?”
The King looked at into the kingdom for a few moments. He could see so much from his elevation.
He looked down at the dwellings were farmers were getting ready for work, oblivious to the current siege underway.
After what seemed forever, the Commander-In-Chief, King Chevy The Conqueror, champion of the kings of berimond, adviser to the Emperor answered with a grim smile.
“Yes, I can fashion something. Meet me in the Great Hall in…Wait, when do our scouts say the enemy will arrive?”
“Three hours, my lord we received word of the attack long ago from the watchtower.”
“Okay, so meet me in the Hall at 7 o’clock which is in one and a half hour hours. See me then. Bring the Battlemaster, Weaponmaster, and your top general. I’ll try to think of something by then.”
The senior commander nodded in agreement and exited the small, opened room. The king wasn’t even looking. He was thinking, still.....
The meeting took place in the great hall, which, by its name, was a large hall used for Royal meetings, and on the rare occasion, state dinners.
However, on this occasion the attendants were all grim-faced staring straight ahead at the king who was at the head of the table.
He beckoned to his regents seated at either side of him.
They brought out a map from which he had been planning from. The map showed the castle, its towers, the keep, and the gate along with all other defensive structures.
The king rose from his simple chair which had thin brown planks covered over four equally simple legs.
He inhaled deeply, aware that the rooms population’s eyesight was now fixed on their leader.
He hesitated, then realized they were so short for time that he had better start now. He breathed in and started.
“As you know… We are under attack. The foreigner’s have decided to attack us as the emperor has forewarned us.” He jerked his head to a tall lean and muscular man sitting next to his Prime Regent who was on his left.
“Sir Arcsin, troop numbers?”
“We recruited defence non-stop my lord. We have two hundred and fifty excellently trained sentinels of the kingsguard, along with bowmen of the guard as well.”
Kingsguard were one of the highest trained and best fitting soldiers. One of the perks of being a king of the land was your ability to use the Emperor's trainers and weapons to recruit the finest defenders.
The king licked his lips. Five hundred defenders was good, but they would be facing so much.
“Okay,” now he turned to the commander of the watchtower, “enemy number?”
“Over three thousand, your majesty.”
The king continued prompting questions non-stop asking each commander what was best for defence and making battle plans. After twenty minutes, he still couldn’t think of anything.
“Get the stronghold active men, try to hide as many citizens there… for now. Meanwhile, I’m going for a ride.
The sun rose steadily over Deathly Claste. It was called this to scare away attackers, but was really far from being deathly, unless you would count the dead sheep and cows, which the citizens used for a living.
The farmers in the fields backs were aching as they stooped low to harvest the grain.
It was harvest season and any grain they didn’t get was a waste. And when supplies were limited, they just couldn’t afford it.
Count Richard the third, who was the owner of the land, was pressuring the farmers to work faster. He sometimes stooped to helped with the grain, too.
Every harvest season they just didn’t produce enough, and the Count couldn’t bear to see them go hungry.
Count Richard’s castle and outlying land was relatively small. His father, Richard the second, was a noble and their family friend had granted him a block of land.
Richard built it up very well, but then he got into dangerous wars against powerful enemies and his castle was raided and destroyed, leaving him almost nothing. Since then, he was left to a difficult task of rebuilding.
As such, the Count spent every morning surveying the building progress, and making sure the farming were working hard and keeping the fief going.
All of a sudden his thoughts were interrupted by a hoofbeat. A black mare whipped through the air like butter.
At first startled, Richard recovered, realizing it wasn’t a battle horse, and the rider had a simple knife at his side.
He also had a sack by the saddle, which, by the looks of it contained some sort ax or hatchet. Instead of a helmet or cap, he wore a black cowl and a same-colored cloak. With his horse, he blended into the trees and so it was a surprise when he drew out of them, and set his horse to a trot near the fields.
The rider dismounted when he was ten meters away from the noble.
Richard III unconscionably put his hand to his knife sheathed on his belt. He nodded toward the man and asked politely,
“What brings you here?”
The rider responded crisply, “We need your help. My castle is under attack, we need reinforcements. Your castle was the first in miles.”
The speaker breathed heavily, obviously tired out from the long ride.
Richard always helped a castle in need, but… For one thing, he had only two hundred poorly trained spearmen and bowmen, who were really no more than a few peasants with weapons on them.
Plus, he didn’t know the rider, lord or castle, and while helping out was a nice thing to do, he couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was with his enemie. He just didn’t know. But the man hardly left him time to think.
“Sir, I know you're having trouble but our lives are on the line… please.”
Richard couldn’t refuse. It was a matter between life and death...although as he thought about it again, who’s death? His bowmen? Who had volunteered their lived to join the army. He pursed his lips. He stood straighter as he heard a voice from the woods.
In a thick italian accent the voice called for customers.
“I think I have an idea…” Richard said slowly, “Follow me…”
Mystified, the rider followed him through the clearing that led to a broken down wagon that served as a travelling merchant stand.
Such merchants were known to go to various castles and stay there a day or so.
The merchant tensed as he saw a noble-looking man and a mysterious hooded figure coming toward him.
It was uncommon for the castle lord to expel the merchant, for they caused a distraction from the markets, thus tampering with the economy.
Richard stepped forward and nodded slowly at the merchant, he said clearly, “Sir? I was wondering if you’d lone us your nice wagon there…” He let the sentence hang in the air.
The merchant was getting worried, his livelihood depended on that wagon… if it got destroyed…
Sensing his thoughts, Richard said, “Don’t worry if it breaks we’ll repay you.” Still not satisfied the merchant reluctantly gave them the wagon and added one more angry ‘plea’ to be careful.
Once the merchant was safely away, Richard nodded at the former rider, and said, “Well, we haven't got all day!”
By the next hour the twenty best troops were loaded into the red silky wagon, all of them were carrying their regular assortment of low-quality weapons.
The driver beat the reins and the horses started at a steady pace moving out of Richard’s jurisdiction.
They drove on for ten minutes, when finally the cowled man asked,
“What’s your plan?” Richard didn’t answer at first, then smiled mysteriously.
“You’ll see, now, where’s your castle?” Distracted, the man pointed at a train that led to outside the gates. He was a little frustrated that Richard wasn’t upfront, after all, it was his castle not Richards.
It took them another couple of minutes to arrive near a few green tents, around a purple banner.
The encampments were around seven hundred meters from the castle wall.
It looked as if the main commanders were planning the attack already.
Richard III only had a few minutes to act...
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Z28HeavyChevy (US1) said:Hey guys!! This story contains REAL players names, mine, as well as my friend. You can look us up in GGE Server US1.
Happy reading!!
The sentries at the bulwark hollered a warning as the enemy neared the gray, stone walls of the castle. At the lead of the incoming attack was a general dressed in fine Armour fitted on his chest snuggly. He wore a red cape on his back which was flying by the early morning wind.
Behind him were two lieutenants, followed by hundreds of clad-iron figures all carrying the same insignia on their chests: a purple coat of arms with a skull and three silver swords sticking out of it.
They were coming at a fast pace, keeping the steady clatter of their boots as they moved. Their swords and crossbows keeping with the rhythm of their leather footwear.
The sentries called the alarm. They pulled a small bell fashioned out of bronze activated by pulling a string. When tugged, it sent vibrations to the other towers.
The other eight towers caught the alarm and readied the men stationed there.
Each of the tower commanders were busy with preparations and they all forgot about telling the castle lord about the problem at hand.
But King Z28HeavyChevy The Conqueror, as he was named by the royal emperor, was already alert as he sat perched at the keep, seeing the motion of a tiny figure pulling a bell.
Krakenberg, which was the capitol’s name, was a relatively small castle. It wasn’t a real kingdom, rather a small fief. King Chevy was also really a baron, and only earned his title for his prowess in battle.
His knuckles whitened at the banister. His defenders were not ready for the attack. He knew it and was dreading it. The Emperor's herald had notified him and the surrounding barons and kings.
The Emperor had started a War Of The Realms against a foreign nation, for reasons no one really knew, but no one dared to ask anyway.
But all King Chevy knew at this moment that he was going to be destroyed.
The king stared at the village and was caught up in his own thoughts. He was abruptly stopped as a the knocker rapped on the wood door leading to the tower room. The supreme general walked into the tower without waiting for a reply and stood next to the castle lord. Usually, in an emergency it was protocol to enter immediately. The commander fidgeted nervously with his watch and opened his mouth to speak, but Chevy raised his hands for silence.
“Yes, I know about the attack… I can see the motion from below from here.”
“Okay…” Said general Zurich, his watch still in between his thumb forefinger, “any ideas of defence?”
The King looked at into the kingdom for a few moments. He could see so much from his elevation.
He looked down at the dwellings were farmers were getting ready for work, oblivious to the current siege underway.
After what seemed forever, the Commander-In-Chief, King Chevy The Conqueror, champion of the kings of berimond, adviser to the Emperor answered with a grim smile.
“Yes, I can fashion something. Meet me in the Great Hall in…Wait, when do our scouts say the enemy will arrive?”
“Three hours, my lord we received word of the attack long ago from the watchtower.”
“Okay, so meet me in the Hall at 7 o’clock which is in one and a half hour hours. See me then. Bring the Battlemaster, Weaponmaster, and your top general. I’ll try to think of something by then.”
The senior commander nodded in agreement and exited the small, opened room. The king wasn’t even looking. He was thinking, still.....
The meeting took place in the great hall, which, by its name, was a large hall used for Royal meetings, and on the rare occasion, state dinners.
However, on this occasion the attendants were all grim-faced staring straight ahead at the king who was at the head of the table.
He beckoned to his regents seated at either side of him.
They brought out a map from which he had been planning from. The map showed the castle, its towers, the keep, and the gate along with all other defensive structures.
The king rose from his simple chair which had thin brown planks covered over four equally simple legs.
He inhaled deeply, aware that the rooms population’s eyesight was now fixed on their leader.
He hesitated, then realized they were so short for time that he had better start now. He breathed in and started.
“As you know… We are under attack. The foreigner’s have decided to attack us as the emperor has forewarned us.” He jerked his head to a tall lean and muscular man sitting next to his Prime Regent who was on his left.
“Sir Arcsin, troop numbers?”
“We recruited defence non-stop my lord. We have two hundred and fifty excellently trained sentinels of the kingsguard, along with bowmen of the guard as well.”
Kingsguard were one of the highest trained and best fitting soldiers. One of the perks of being a king of the land was your ability to use the Emperor's trainers and weapons to recruit the finest defenders.
The king licked his lips. Five hundred defenders was good, but they would be facing so much.
“Okay,” now he turned to the commander of the watchtower, “enemy number?”
“Over three thousand, your majesty.”
The king continued prompting questions non-stop asking each commander what was best for defence and making battle plans. After twenty minutes, he still couldn’t think of anything.
“Get the stronghold active men, try to hide as many citizens there… for now. Meanwhile, I’m going for a ride.
The sun rose steadily over Deathly Claste. It was called this to scare away attackers, but was really far from being deathly, unless you would count the dead sheep and cows, which the citizens used for a living.
The farmers in the fields backs were aching as they stooped low to harvest the grain.
It was harvest season and any grain they didn’t get was a waste. And when supplies were limited, they just couldn’t afford it.
Count Richard the third, who was the owner of the land, was pressuring the farmers to work faster. He sometimes stooped to helped with the grain, too.
Every harvest season they just didn’t produce enough, and the Count couldn’t bear to see them go hungry.
Count Richard’s castle and outlying land was relatively small. His father, Richard the second, was a noble and their family friend had granted him a block of land.
Richard built it up very well, but then he got into dangerous wars against powerful enemies and his castle was raided and destroyed, leaving him almost nothing. Since then, he was left to a difficult task of rebuilding.
As such, the Count spent every morning surveying the building progress, and making sure the farming were working hard and keeping the fief going.
All of a sudden his thoughts were interrupted by a hoofbeat. A black mare whipped through the air like butter.
At first startled, Richard recovered, realizing it wasn’t a battle horse, and the rider had a simple knife at his side.
He also had a sack by the saddle, which, by the looks of it contained some sort ax or hatchet. Instead of a helmet or cap, he wore a black cowl and a same-colored cloak. With his horse, he blended into the trees and so it was a surprise when he drew out of them, and set his horse to a trot near the fields.
The rider dismounted when he was ten meters away from the noble.
Richard III unconscionably put his hand to his knife sheathed on his belt. He nodded toward the man and asked politely,
“What brings you here?”
The rider responded crisply, “We need your help. My castle is under attack, we need reinforcements. Your castle was the first in miles.”
The speaker breathed heavily, obviously tired out from the long ride.Richard always helped a castle in need, but… For one thing, he had only two hundred poorly trained spearmen and bowmen, who were really no more than a few peasants with weapons on them.
Plus, he didn’t know the rider, lord or castle, and while helping out was a nice thing to do, he couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was with his enemie. He just didn’t know. But the man hardly left him time to think.
“Sir, I know you're having trouble but our lives are on the line… please.”
Richard couldn’t refuse. It was a matter between life and death...although as he thought about it again, who’s death? His bowmen? Who had volunteered their lived to join the army. He pursed his lips. He stood straighter as he heard a voice from the woods.In a thick italian accent the voice called for customers.
“I think I have an idea…” Richard said slowly, “Follow me…”
Mystified, the rider followed him through the clearing that led to a broken down wagon that served as a travelling merchant stand.
Such merchants were known to go to various castles and stay there a day or so.
The merchant tensed as he saw a noble-looking man and a mysterious hooded figure coming toward him.
It was uncommon for the castle lord to expel the merchant, for they caused a distraction from the markets, thus tampering with the economy.
Richard stepped forward and nodded slowly at the merchant, he said clearly, “Sir? I was wondering if you’d lone us your nice wagon there…” He let the sentence hang in the air.
The merchant was getting worried, his livelihood depended on that wagon… if it got destroyed…
Sensing his thoughts, Richard said, “Don’t worry if it breaks we’ll repay you.” Still not satisfied the merchant reluctantly gave them the wagon and added one more angry ‘plea’ to be careful.
Once the merchant was safely away, Richard nodded at the former rider, and said, “Well, we haven't got all day!”
By the next hour the twenty best troops were loaded into the red silky wagon, all of them were carrying their regular assortment of low-quality weapons.
The driver beat the reins and the horses started at a steady pace moving out of Richard’s jurisdiction.
They drove on for ten minutes, when finally the cowled man asked,
“What’s your plan?” Richard didn’t answer at first, then smiled mysteriously.
“You’ll see, now, where’s your castle?” Distracted, the man pointed at a train that led to outside the gates. He was a little frustrated that Richard wasn’t upfront, after all, it was his castle not Richards.
It took them another couple of minutes to arrive near a few green tents, around a purple banner.
The encampments were around seven hundred meters from the castle wall.
It looked as if the main commanders were planning the attack already.
Richard III only had a few minutes to act...
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
