Hail Warlords and Peers!
This missive is a small update to our recent Windswept Woes, and shall contain (unless we are distracted or digress) some valuable lessons we have learned and wish to share with others attempting to lead the Scythians of the Steppes to domination. It shall also serve as a vessel into which we can vent our frustration and anger at certain events.
Collections of marble barns are wonderful places to grow warriors, but awful battlefields. Our battle savvy lies not in the narrow, steep-walled stone ground between houses of marble, but upon freedom of movement under the open sky. This lesson was well-known to all, but driven home to us in the many and repeated battles over the sovereignty of a horrible little village called Thessalonica.
Here we had finally driven out the Brutish Ones in order to cease their attacks upon our proud and noble allies, the Greeklings. And how were we repaid for this open act of kindness and alliance? Why, our proud and noble allies besieged us the very next turn of the sun! So, we naturally drove them off, only to return to the marble houses to replenish our arrows and few (very few!) casualties. Then the bloody Brutish Ones attack and besiege us, while a Greekling warhost sat right next to them. Neither attacked the other, yet both took turns attacking and being decimated by us. We finally had a second force meet up with the besieged, and betwixt the twain slaughtered and impaled both foreign armies. Now only a small force returns to the town for new supplies and warriors while the rest of us roam the countryside looking for foes to slay, of which this land breeds like flies. The ravens here have mulitplied in their thousands due to all the fresh food they have been receiving.
Along with this event, it seems that every Royal House in the world has suddenly decided that the People of the Open Sky smell as if they bathe in the droppings of pigs and that our open and honest manner smacks of hostile and uncouth behavior. Such it must be, for in the single summer, all six our our remaining Proud and Noble Allies declared war upon us through the underhanded means of attacking our warhosts or besieging our marble barns, or through simply neglecting to inform us that their new allies are our bitter enemies and thus we are no longer allied. This is the epitome of stupidity, for those Royal Houses engaging us in war are weak and ignoble, while our forces range far and wide sowing destruction whence they go. We rule a land stretching from the Rising Sun to Illyria, yet tiny Are-Mean-Ya with its miserable three villages decides to contest the ownership of Hatra with us by means of force of arms. And little Pontus, pushed away from the Golden Horn by a resurgent Greekling warhost, decides that Tarsus, won by us in honorable combat from the last of the Sons of Seleucus, should belong to them. Bah! Fools all. We shall wipe them from the earth in our attempt to stamp out Stupidity and bring the Human Race to the next evolutionary step. Thus we have learned that our counterparts in this virtual world are led by idiots and fools who know not the value of diplomacy or honor.
We have employed roving armies of our famed Horseborne Archers with a warlord or two for the breaking and chasing of foreign mobs in long rides, with much success. While the horseborne roam and slaughter, the footborne plod along and besiege the foes, while the horseborne guard them from combat and let them build their toys of war in peace.
This is a tactic that won for us Bylazora and Antioch, and seems to be the way to go for a mobile people such as us. The joy of riding, coupled with the butchering of foes and feeding their flesh to the ravens whilst their blood fertilizes the soil for the growing of better grass for our mounts has the wonderful side-effect of bleeding our enemies dry, which drains their coffers in the calling of new warriors to their banners whilst it weakens their existing forces, which in turn makes it much easier for our plodding footborne to break into the burg and raise our banner above its palace.
To be brutally honest as is our way, we must confess that we knew of these lessons and many others. But it has been many barrels of ale since we have had the time to force our scribes earn an honest day's pay. And whilst knowing of a lesson is one thing, having it drilled into thee by the brutal experience of having our warriors bleed for our mistakes is quite another. We would spare thee this pain, and sound for thee the Horns of Victory.
Until the next time our barrels of ale are emptied and our amphora of wine run dry...
|||||||||||||||| A transplanted Viking, born a millennium too late. |||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||| Too many Awards to list in Signature, sorry lords...|||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||| Listed on my page for your convenience and envy.|||||||||||||||||
Somewhere over the EXCO Rainbow
Master Skald, Order of the Silver Quill, Guild of the Skalds
Champion of the Sepia Joust- Joust I, II, IV, VI, VII, VIII
This missive is a small update to our recent Windswept Woes, and shall contain (unless we are distracted or digress) some valuable lessons we have learned and wish to share with others attempting to lead the Scythians of the Steppes to domination. It shall also serve as a vessel into which we can vent our frustration and anger at certain events.
Collections of marble barns are wonderful places to grow warriors, but awful battlefields. Our battle savvy lies not in the narrow, steep-walled stone ground between houses of marble, but upon freedom of movement under the open sky. This lesson was well-known to all, but driven home to us in the many and repeated battles over the sovereignty of a horrible little village called Thessalonica.
Here we had finally driven out the Brutish Ones in order to cease their attacks upon our proud and noble allies, the Greeklings. And how were we repaid for this open act of kindness and alliance? Why, our proud and noble allies besieged us the very next turn of the sun! So, we naturally drove them off, only to return to the marble houses to replenish our arrows and few (very few!) casualties. Then the bloody Brutish Ones attack and besiege us, while a Greekling warhost sat right next to them. Neither attacked the other, yet both took turns attacking and being decimated by us. We finally had a second force meet up with the besieged, and betwixt the twain slaughtered and impaled both foreign armies. Now only a small force returns to the town for new supplies and warriors while the rest of us roam the countryside looking for foes to slay, of which this land breeds like flies. The ravens here have mulitplied in their thousands due to all the fresh food they have been receiving.
Along with this event, it seems that every Royal House in the world has suddenly decided that the People of the Open Sky smell as if they bathe in the droppings of pigs and that our open and honest manner smacks of hostile and uncouth behavior. Such it must be, for in the single summer, all six our our remaining Proud and Noble Allies declared war upon us through the underhanded means of attacking our warhosts or besieging our marble barns, or through simply neglecting to inform us that their new allies are our bitter enemies and thus we are no longer allied. This is the epitome of stupidity, for those Royal Houses engaging us in war are weak and ignoble, while our forces range far and wide sowing destruction whence they go. We rule a land stretching from the Rising Sun to Illyria, yet tiny Are-Mean-Ya with its miserable three villages decides to contest the ownership of Hatra with us by means of force of arms. And little Pontus, pushed away from the Golden Horn by a resurgent Greekling warhost, decides that Tarsus, won by us in honorable combat from the last of the Sons of Seleucus, should belong to them. Bah! Fools all. We shall wipe them from the earth in our attempt to stamp out Stupidity and bring the Human Race to the next evolutionary step. Thus we have learned that our counterparts in this virtual world are led by idiots and fools who know not the value of diplomacy or honor.
We have employed roving armies of our famed Horseborne Archers with a warlord or two for the breaking and chasing of foreign mobs in long rides, with much success. While the horseborne roam and slaughter, the footborne plod along and besiege the foes, while the horseborne guard them from combat and let them build their toys of war in peace.
This is a tactic that won for us Bylazora and Antioch, and seems to be the way to go for a mobile people such as us. The joy of riding, coupled with the butchering of foes and feeding their flesh to the ravens whilst their blood fertilizes the soil for the growing of better grass for our mounts has the wonderful side-effect of bleeding our enemies dry, which drains their coffers in the calling of new warriors to their banners whilst it weakens their existing forces, which in turn makes it much easier for our plodding footborne to break into the burg and raise our banner above its palace.
To be brutally honest as is our way, we must confess that we knew of these lessons and many others. But it has been many barrels of ale since we have had the time to force our scribes earn an honest day's pay. And whilst knowing of a lesson is one thing, having it drilled into thee by the brutal experience of having our warriors bleed for our mistakes is quite another. We would spare thee this pain, and sound for thee the Horns of Victory.
Until the next time our barrels of ale are emptied and our amphora of wine run dry...
|||||||||||||||| A transplanted Viking, born a millennium too late. |||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||| Too many Awards to list in Signature, sorry lords...|||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||| Listed on my page for your convenience and envy.|||||||||||||||||
Somewhere over the EXCO Rainbow
Master Skald, Order of the Silver Quill, Guild of the Skalds
Champion of the Sepia Joust- Joust I, II, IV, VI, VII, VIII
[This message has been edited by Terikel706 (edited 10-18-2007 @ 09:59 AM).]