The Jarithian War

[Sir Zeppelin]

Commander Hawkins was down to his last leg. His troops now numbered a mere 20 score--it was all he could do to stay alive. His colors stood upon a small knoll, barely 40 ft high--it was from this vantage point his army fought.

"Is that Robin?" said Commander Hawkins, in an irratable tone. "I ordered him to retreat! That disobedient child! Now he will die, along with me, and this shall be known as the day the Forestman died--and it will all be under my watch!"

"Wait sir," said Hawkin's orderly. "The flag of another regiment flies alongside Robin's--Robin has re-enforcements!"

"Those colors arw alien to me," said Hawkins. "Let's hope Robin chose good allies." Commander Hawkins began to shout. "Men, do not fear! Robin IX brings allies! The battle is not lost!"

Hawkins's men began to have a new spring in their step. They swung their swords with more force, and their hope did not waver.
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For the third time, Robin led the charge against the Ruratanian army. However, this time the advance was not halted. The sound of retreat slipped from his memory as his mixed army of Forestmen and Norvunda dug their way to the heart of the battlefield.
"We're going to make it this time," said Robin. "We're going to rescue them."
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Elwun ducked, stood, and slashed. He was in the heat of the fighting, and without his good comrade Matoth, he would have long ago been dead. "When will Robin be here?" he asked, blocking a blow with his sheild.

"I do not know--but it isn't soon enough," said Matoth.

Elwyn re-focused his concentration on the battle. It took all of his strength and stamina to survive. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimps of a strange looking warrior upon a chesnut horse break through the Ruratanian line and gallop towards the top of the knoll. Following it was a young man clad in green, riding as fast as he could.

The men in the line began to shout. "It's Robin! The prince is here! Long live Robin IX!"

"We're saved," Elwyn said with hope. "This battle shall end."
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Meanwhile, a lone figure traveled east.

[Albatross_Viking]

With the arrival of Eiran Hakonsons Norvunda, the battle was soon said and done. When The Forestmen and Norvunda infantry had made their way to Commander Hawkins tired little group, they began pushing agressively outwards, all while George led the cavalry in a series of charges against the Ruratainians from the outside. This two-side attack finally routed the Royals. Although their leaders tried to keep them fighting, more and more began to throw down their weapons and run, untill it all ended in a whole massacre of Forestman cavalry trampling down the panicking Ruratainians.

Many women and children in Ruratainia never saw their husbands, fathers and brothers again. Of the 800-900 Royal troops, who had first marched to Barrowstone, barely 400 was left when the mass-rout began, and in the following days, Forestmen and Wolfpack tracked many of them down. The combined army of rebels, Forestmen and Norvunda set up their camp half a mile away from Barrowstone. Herefrom small groups were sent out to get some food, while women from the local villages (who neither didnt like the Duke of Jarith) came to help take care of the wounded.

[Sir Zeppelin]

The Forestman camp was glowing with light, despite the late hour. Campfires were set up outside of each tent, and those who weren't bed-ridded were celebrating their victory. However, for some people, the work never ends.

King Alfred, Robin, George, Commander Hawkins, Eiran Hakonson of the Norvunda, and several other Forestman commanders, were all huddled around a map, discussing future strategy plans.

"I say we keep the rout going," said Robin. "We'll drive them all the way to the gates of the Duke's castle."

"What if it's a trap?" asked Erian. "There very well could be an army of Ruratanians marching our way, and us riding out to meet them would only result in disaster."

"The summer has just began--the war season has only just started. Should we use our time to make a frontal assualt on our enemies, or strengthen our defensive position for next year?" said George.

"Speaking of enemies," said King Alfred. Everyone in the room became silent, a tribute to their respect to the king. "We must gain more allies if we wish to win this war. The Forestman have always been few; never has this been more evident than now. Our ranks grow thin as this war drags on; even if we win this conflict, we'll be weak; a tempting sight for a country seeking land, or a young leader seeking power. We must gain more allies! We must press our diplomatic position among the other nations of Castleland, and gain their aid. I have already commisioned several diplomats to our usual allies of war; let's hope that the prospect of facing one of the more powerful nations of Castleland, Ruratania, doesn't throw them off. Now, what I am wondering, is how this will play into out strategy. We will not know whether we have the help of any countries before we're well into the summer caimpaigns; should we plan like we're going to have the aid of at least one country, or none at all? All of these are questions that need answering."

"And they have been answered." A man dressed in chain mail, and the insignia of a falcon, one half black, one half white, entered the room. He wore a black helmet over his head, but you could still see much of his facial characteristics. "I recieved your message; I have personaly brought an army of 10,000 men--they're camped about ten miles away, next to the river. King Alfred, you know that everyone has always been waiting for the oppertunity to strike Ruratania, but no one has ever had the bravery until now. We of Germenesque appreciate your efforts, and it is now time for us to lend a hand. Consider us allies for the duration of this war, and maybe, afterwords too. I have sent dipmolamts over to Telemar; we'll see if they join our side. In the meantime, consider my army yours; I'll have more men on the way soon."

"King Albert," said Alfred. "I am deeply touched by your generosity; I look forward to the day when we drive the Ruratanians to the coast. Join us--we're discusing our battle plans right now."

Several hours later, the meeting adjourned. Everyone was satisfied with the results--the new plan would begin tommorow. Right now, everyone sought rest and respite.

[Albatross_Viking]

And in the gathering darkness, a cloaked figure, who had laid silent besides the tent, quickly snaked away and was soon gone in the thick undergrowth.

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When Robin crawled out of his tent, almost nobody else were up. Except a tall silhuot on the top of hill besides the camp and the sentries, Robin was the only one awoke. The person on the hill, Robin thought, was probably Eiran Hakonson, or one of the other Norvunda. They were a seafaring nation, used to live on small islands with the sounds of the sea constantly in their ears. So being so far from the sea must have been a strange feeling for them. Robin continued his walk around the camp. Here and there, small fires from the evening was still burning. And suddenly he noticed something strange.

"Haven´t the camp... grown...?", he asked to himself. And yes, it had. About a dozen more tents had appeared. "Incredible, how fast such rumours can run", Robin thought.

[Albatross_Viking]

At the meeting in the commandtent later that day, King Albert and 4 other Black Falcon commanders were with at around the table.
With 10,000 new soldiers, all thoughts of retreating and building up defenses were gone. They would drive the Duke of Jariths men all the way to his own castle and force him to either surrender or fight against them. Earlier, Eiran had mostly been with for the dublouns, but also Norvund had had their problems with Ruratainia. And as he had sent a request for troops to his homeland, the seafarer was apparently begining to think of what had started as a way to earn some money as his war too.

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Already the next day about noon, the army was ready to march out. Small groups of scouts were sent out to locate Ruratainian troops and gather peasants willing to fight against the hated duke. It came to a small fight between some scouts and some of the dukes men, but when the sun went down, no other troubles had happened on that beautifull Maihk day. But nobody know what happens deep, deep in the dark forest, where the night never ends...

[Napoleon]

Click, click, click. Major Dawson's heavily-polished boots clicked rapidly against the Duke's marble floor. He was there to report excellant news to the Duke and he was practically running down the halls. At last, he approached the massive mahogany door to the Duke's throne room, "That's it, David," he said to himself while brushing his hands over the sleeves of his burgundy coat, "Straighten those medals, look in the mirror, and remove m' tri-corne...yes, brush it off...there! Dawson, you look good an' military!" After rapping on the huge door, he stepped back and awaited a squire to open it. A weak-looking young man peeked his head out, "Yes?"

"I am here to see the Duke of Jarith, my good chap!"

The Duke? Uhh...follow me."

"Right, my old bean." The Major clicked his heels and bowed. The servant opened the door and the two walked over to the Duke's throne. The Duke was a frightful sight; his hair was unkept and greasy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were wrinkled and stained.

"What is it!" growled the Duke, "First my army is defeated at Barrowstone, and I'm sure you bring more ill tidings."

"Uh, no, my Liege, I have good news! George of the Forestmen was leading a force of Black Falcon heavy infantry thru the woods last night, and my forces destroyed 'em, completely. We used...this weapon; the Dawson matchlock hand-cannon," he said enthusiastically while pulling out a technical-looking wood-and-metal device.

"What does it do?!" asked the Duke, now far more alert.

"Well, you take a match, light this little string, wait two seconds, cock back this little mechanism, and, just like a crossbow, pull the trigger..." he explained while aiming it at a suit of armour in the corner of the room.

"BOOM!"

"By the Gods!" screamed the Duke, "Put that away! Are you trying to blow us all up!" He took out a drenched hankerchief and wiped his forehead, "Did George fall?"

"Right in the torso! Saw 'im meself," he stated cheerily while tucking the weapon back in his jacket,"And so, my Lord, would you be interested in equiping your men with the Dawson Weapon Company's best guns?" he asked eagerly.

"Absolutely not, Major, that thing is dangerous, loud, and ugly; my men will continue using their pikes and swords. That is my final word!"

"Oh, fine, but you will be sorry when other armies are arming themselves with these, and your men find themselves defenseless!"

"That smacks of treason against the Ruratainian Crown! Get out of my castle, before you find yourself in the dungeon." the Duke demanded while pointing to the door.

"Very well, you old fool. If you don't want t' embrace the future, perhaps the Rebels will. Yes, that's it, discount price, and those Rebs will be bending over backwards t' get their hands on these!" thought Major Dawson, already making his way to his coach outside. After a few minutes of walking, he reached and boarded it, "Driver, take me t' Robin's camp; we're going to do some sellin'."

Trot, trot, trot, trot. The coach quickly drove off...

[Napoleon]

"Oww!" cried George in agony, holding his wounded side, "Those stinkin' Ruratainians!" George slowly sat up and looked around the moon-lit forest. Everywhere he looked there were dozens of dead Black Falcon troopers; all killed by hand-cannons. George weakly raised himself up and managed to stand and walk, "If I don't find help, I'll die out here!" He grabbed a sword and started walking in the direction of Barrowstone. Before long, a Black Falcon lancer patrol stumbled accross him and took him to the Rebel encampment...

[Sir Zeppelin]

"Why, those dirty, rotten scoundrels!" said Robin, pacing his tent. It was the middle of the night, and he was tired and frusterated. "How can we compete?! If they keep pulling tricks like this, we'll never win this war!"

"Quiet down, Robin," said Lackfert, one of the Forestmen colonels. "George will be fine; I've already talked to the doctor. He'll be out of duty for a while, but no pernament damage will be done."

A head poked through the flap of Robin's tent--it was Dyto, the doctor.

"Your friend will be fine," he said. "He's lucky--it was only a flesh wound. However, it's not his health that has me worried. What worries me is how the Ruratanians could inflict that type of wound; obviously, they have some new kind of weapon, a deadly kind. Talk to King Alfred, Robin; we must investigate this. I won't have a job for much longer if we don't get our hands on this weapon--there will be no patients to work with."

"I'll see what I can do, doc. I appreciate your help; I don't know what this army would do without you."

Dyto began to leave the tent. "You'd just have to stop fighting wars, I guess." With a nod towards Robin and Lackfert, Doctor Dyto left the tent.

"Lackfert, I'm going to go talk to Dad; maybe he'll let me go on a mission to learn more about these new weapons. Can you hold the fort while I'm gone?"

"Of course," said Lackfert. "I'll go with you; I need to see Major Fernond anyways."

Leaving the tent, Robin and Lackfert walked the short distance to King Alfred's pavillion, which served as headquarters. All around, you could see amixture of Forestmen and Germanesque. At first, Robin was apprehensive about camping with such far away forigners; however, he quickly came to like the Germanesqueans. They were friendly, and always seemed to be optimistic, no matter how tough things were. Approaching the tent, Robin noticed a sense of hustle-and-bustle about the place, one which was unusual for this time of night.

"Father!" said Robin, hurrying over to where the king was seated. "I have something to ask of you. The Ruratanians have devised some sort of new weapon, one which will quickly devour our army if we don't do something about it." Kign Alfred's back was turned to his son. He seemed to be examining a piece of wood he held between his hands. "Dad?"

A voice adressed Robin from the corner, in the shadows. "You need not travel to the Ruratanians to have this weapon," said Major Dawson.

[Albatross_Viking]

Major Dawson stepped out of the shadows and shaked Robins hand.

"Greetings, Robin IX. Im Major Dawson, the inventer of this wonderful weapon"

Dawson smiled and pointed at the wood and metal thing King Alfred was studying.

"What?.. You... George?!", shouted Robin, as he pointed towards the tent were Doc Dyto was taking care of George.
Robin had already crossed the distance to Dawson and gripped his neck before the man had time to react.

"Wait! I can explain!", the Major gargled. Robin slowly released the other man and stepped half a step backwards.

"Look, in the start, i wanted to sell my Dawson matchlock hand-cannons", he pointed at the strange thing King Alfred held "to them Ruratainians, but that foolish duke just sent me away. I attacked your friends to have some proof for how powerful my hand-cannons are. So, i thought you might like to buy it instead?"

[Seikfreid]

Robin's face grew purple with rage.

"Buy them?! You have the nerve to come here and ask for our money after you attack our troops?!" He roared.

"Wait, I can explain-" started Dawson, but he was cut off by Robin.

"Don't explain a thing to me! I've had enough of you already!" Robin drew his dagger and Major Dawson backed against the side of the tent in fear.

"I-I-I..aughh!" he stammered.

Robin raised his dagger for a final strike as the Major covered his face with his hands.

"STOP!" commanded the king, and his face was set grimly. A great sword gleamed in his hand, and Robin paused. He had never before seen his father like this.

[Albatross_Viking]

"But dad... that... thing... attacked our men, and now he wants us to buy those noisy things?!"

"Robin, relax. Cant you see how useful these weapons can become?", asked Alfred

Robin stopped and looked confused at the dagger in his hand for a moment. Then suddenly, he remembered how George had looked when he finally came back to the camp, and with a cry of anger, he charged towards Dawson.
Thats when a big, strong Norvunda becomes handy. Eiran Hakonson quickly stepped forwards, and swung his shield in a big arc down into Robins head. The prince stood swaying for a moment, then collapsed on the floor.

"With your permission, King Alfred, id´d like to say that your son needs to rest a little bit", said Eiran. Then, to Dawson "Now, would ye test your wonderful noise-thing for us?"

[Sir Zeppelin]

Major Dawsone lead the group outside.
"You will want to saddle your horses," he said. "If I used my weapon around here, it would cause quite the kerfuffle."
"Agreed," said King Alfred. "Cornelius!" the king called.
Cornelius's head peeked out of the stable-house; it was the only pernamant structure in the entire camp. "Yes, my lord?" Cornelius asked.
"Saddle my horse," the King said.
"Why, sir? It is near midnight; who goes on--"
"Cornelius, did I ask you to question my judgement?" the king asked.
"No, sir, but I--"
"Then saddle my horse. While you're at it, have Erian and Colonel Lackfert's horses saddled, too. I want them to see this wonderful weapon," the king whispered under his breath.

[Albatross_Viking]

And so, the little group of King Alfred, Eiran, Lackfert, Dawson and some 20 black falcon soldiers rode a little bit away from the camp.

"Now, would you show us this thing in use?", asked Alfred.

"Well yes. Yes. Look here", Major Dawson answered eargerly. "You just light this little string here... wait a moment... cock this thing back"
He began aiming at a tree "and like with a crossbow, you pull this trigger..."

Boom!

Major Dawson almost jumped when the hand-cannon fired. A large cloud of smoke filled the air. And through it, the assembled people could see a large hole in the tree.

"Look! Look what my hand-cannon did to that tree!", shouted Dawson enthusiastic.

"Well, that was... impressive", King Alfred coughed.

"Yes, very... impressive", both Eiran, lackfert and several og the Black Falcons agreed.

[Napoleon]

"Well now, my good chaps, I say, that we equip both the Black Falcon army, and the Forestmen army with my hand-cannons; we'll be invincible!" suggested Dawson while waving his gun in the air.

"As a matter of vact," said a Black Falcon diplomat, Count Kant, "Ve of der Fatherland would love to use your hand-cannons."

Dawson scratched his chin, "Hmmmm...If you agree to pay full price, seeing as you are an established country unlike my Forestmen friends which are only buying for half price. Will you agree, my good man?"

The officer looked at the ground, as if in deep thought, "Very vell, mein friend. We have an agreement. Now, how many can you give us at the moment?"

Dawson smiled and shook his hand,"About 5000, at the moment. And about 8000 to the Forestmen." Major Dawson now turned around and started to unload a few crates of hand-cannons from a small wagon, "Now, gents, please take these guns and evenly distribute them among both your armies! Yes, these are free, a gift. There are about 200 in these crates, so I hope you appreciate it!"

"Danke! Ve do, mein Herr!" said the Count.

"I cant wait to try these things out in a real battle!" commened Robin.

[Albatross_Viking]

Jarl Svenn Iturson took a sip of his ale, dropped the empty cup and looked over his back, at the fleet that was assembled there.
"Right men! Were sailing!", he belowed, and the whole fleet began moving. First slowly then, as they got out on deeper sea, with increasingly higher speed.
The sun shone high over the waves of the Viking Sea and reflected in the about 2000-3000 helmets that laid spread around the decks of the longboats.
"What a beautiful day to go to war", mumbled Svenn. He took a look at the compass. They were heading the right way. On to Ruratainia, on to the war.

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The sun also shone on the Duke of Jariths castle, but the little group of men assembled in his office didnt notice it. All their attension was on the discussion they had going. And the topic was of the shady kind...