The Black Baron

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<center> Hello, and welcome to <h1 style="background-color:White; color:Black;"><b><u>The Black Baron.</u></b></h1> This is a game made by Colossal Project Productions (known as Colossal PP). Please support us on [[https://www.patreon.com/user?u=71217424<-Patreon.]] <p style=color:Red>''This is a completely free game, if you paid for this, YOU GOT SCAMMED.''</p> <u>This game is made by adults for adults, and ALL characters in the game are adults. If you are not an adult, you should close the game.</u> <<set $rank to "Noble">>\ <<set $Morale to -2>>\ <<set $sMorale to "Shaken">>\ <<set $Dread to 0>>\ <<set $sDread to "">>\ <<set $mcTitle to "Baron">> <<set $mcRealm to "unknown">>\ <<set $Fame to 0>>\ <<set $Piety to 0>>\ <<set $Command to 0>>\ <<set $Martial to 0>><<set $sFame to "Neither Feared nor respected, you are little known to anyone except your father's Barony's neighbors">>\ <<set $sPiety to "Untested in moral conundrums, who knows where your souls will go">>\ <<set $sCommand to "Nobody respects your skill as a leader">>\ <<set $sMartial to "Probably good enough to kill a peasant">>\ <<set $gold to 60>> The game is going to test some traits throughout the story, which you can check at any time by pushing the Character Sheet button on the left (will be available once you input your name). You can only increase them to 5 via normal means. These traits are: -<h style="background-color:White; color:Black"><b>Dread</b></h>: The fear you inspire among the commoners and nobles, friendly and enemy. -<b>Fame</b>: Your respect among the realm's lords and peasants. -<h style="color:gold">Piety</h>: Your personal moral integrity and devotion to the Holy Script. -<h style="color:grey;background-color:Black">Command</h>: Your skill at leading men. Knowledge of military tactics and the ability to use them. -<h style="color:red;background-color:Black">Martial</h>: Your melee (and to a certain degree, ranged) skill. As most nobles do, you use sword, shield and spear/lance. The story is set in a low-fantasy medieval world, where you play as the son of a poor Baron, of a Kingdom at War. You may end the game impoverished and with your reputation ruined, as you will start it off,\ or you may end it as the man everyone wants to be. Good luck! [[Prologue]] </center>

Version:0.1 ''Made By'' [[https://www.patreon.com/user?u=71217424<-Colossal PP]] <center> <<if $mcRealm !== "unknown">><<button "Character Sheet">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Character Sheet"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Character Sheet").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</button>> <</if>> </center>

<center>\ Lord $mcTitle $mcName Czarny of $mcRealm <img src="images/BB/misc/Baron.webp" width="300" height="225">\ <h style="background-color:Black;color:gold">''Rank:$rank''</h> <h style="background-color:Black;color:gold">''Gold:$gold''</h> <<include "_skillupdate">> \ \ \ ''Morale'' - ''$Morale'' ''$sMorale'' \ <h style="background-color:White;color:Black">''Dread'' - ''$Dread''</h> <h style="background-color:Black;color:white">''$sDread''</h> \ <h style="color:white;"> ''Fame'' - ''$Fame'' </h> <h style="color:black; background-color:White">''$sFame''</h> \ <h style="color:gold;">''Piety - $Piety''</h> <h style="background-color:gold;color:black">''$sPiety''</h>\ <h style="color:grey;">''Command - $Command''</h> <h style="background-color:grey;">''$sCommand'' </h>\ <h style="color:red;">''Martial - $Martial'' </h> <h style="background-color:red;">''$sMartial''</h>\ </center> <<silently>> <<linkreplace "CHEAT">> <<set $Morale to 100>>\ <<set $Dread to 100>>\ <<set $Fame to 100>>\ <<set $Piety to 100>>\ <<set $Command to 100>>\ <<set $Martial to 100>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</silently>>

You are a young man, the son of a poor $mcTitle in the army of the Krol (known hereafter as King). The realm you live and serve in, the Kingdom of Swiatla, has come under attack from the South, the Great Vizierlik of Faiz. The King, Yaroslav of the Wist House, has managed to defend most of the borderlands and is currently amassing an army host to attack the neighboring Principality, which joined the Vizier's army in it's attack against your Kingdom, as well as letting them attack you from their teritorry. Their incursion into your Kingdom's lands, reached just outside of your own Barony, and destroyed much of the life in these counties and baronies, which are, quite creatively called the borderlands. <img src="images/BB/misc/Baron.webp" width="300" height="225"> You have been sent by your father as his Warmaster and Young $mcTitle (descriptive title denoting your heritage) to join the Kingdom's Crusade against these heretical invaders. Should you prove yourself to be useful, there will certainly be much to gain. But should you prove yourself incompetent, your already impoverished Barony (and House with it) might just fall to the crushing indifference of the world. [[Continue|Prologue2]]

<center> After an almost two-day nonstop forced march, you and your twenty men have arrived at the hill of just south of the Marnava River, where the King's Army is almost complete for the purposes of this campaign. Seeing the number of troops here, you're surprised it's not all of the army, as you've heard from a couple of patrols and travellers on your way here. This is without a doubt a large enough army already to attack the Holliks. Regardless, all you can think of is coming to a stop, finally getting off your horse and resting your sorry ass for a bit. As you approach the camp outskirts, one of the guards approaches and asks you, politely, to present yourself. <img src="images/BB/misc/guards.jpg" width="300" height="225"> Guard: "My lord, apologies for the intrusion, but would you please introduce yourself?" \ \ <<script>> Dialog.setup("Explanation"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Explanation").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> "Good day, friend, I am Young $mcTitle <b><i>(Name of your barony)</i></b><<textbox "$mcRealm" "Las">> and my name is <h style="color:White"><b><i>(Your Given Name)</i></b></h><<textbox "$mcName" "Jan">>, am I on the list?" \ With a chuckle, the guard states: "Aye m'Lord, yer on the list. You and <<link "your man">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Explanation"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sergeant").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> should set up on the hills, the men are to join the rest of the peasants over there, and the Lord Wolner asked every Lord that arrives check in with him and affirm his levy size. Baron $mcRealm:"You heard him Gareth, [[let's go|Settling In]]." \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

Unit - a formation of usually 20 men.

<<nobr>> <<if $Morale > 2>> <<set $Morale to 2>><</if>> <<if $Martial < -2>> <<set $Morale to -2>><</if>> <<if $Dread < 0>> <<set $Dread to 0>><</if>> <<if $Dread > 5>> <<set $Dread to 5>><</if>> <<if $Fame > 5>> <<set $Fame to 5>><</if>> <<if $Fame < 0>> <<set $Fame to 0>><</if>> <<if $Piety > 5>> <<set $Piety to 5>><</if>> <<if $Piety <0>> <<set $Piety to 0>><</if>> <<if $Command > 5>> <<set $Command to 5>><</if>> <<if $Command <0 >> <<set $Command to 0>><</if>> <<if $Martial > 5>> <<set $Martial to 5>><</if>> <<if $Martial < 0>> <<set $Martial to 0>><</if>> <<if $Morale eq -2>><<set $sMorale to "Terrified">><</if>> <<if $Morale eq -1>><<set $sMorale to "Shaken">> <</if>> <<if $Morale is 0>><<set $sMorale to "Weary">> <</if>> <<if $Morale eq 1>><<set $sMorale to "Eager">><</if>> <<if $Morale eq 2>><<set $sMorale to "Unflinching">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 0>> <<set $sDread to "Uninvolved in the art of Fear">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 1>> <<set $sDread to "Fear exists">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 2>> <<set $sDread to "You've learned that Fear is a tool">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 3>> <<set $sDread to "Fear is a good tool">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 4>> <<set $sDread to "Your gaze inspires dread">><</if>> <<if $Dread eq 5>> <<set $sDread to "The only thing to fear... is you... and then fear">><</if>> <<if $Fame eq 0>><<set $sFame to "Neither Feared nor respected, you are little known to anyone except some of $mcRealm's neighbors">><</if>> <<if $Fame eq 1>><<set $sFame to "The $mcTitle of $mcRealm, Lord in the Kingdom">><</if>> <<if $Fame eq 2>><<set $sFame to "Quite a good $mcTitle, considering what circumstances you've to deal with">> <</if>> <<if $Fame is 3>><<set $sFame to "The best $mcTitle in the Kingdom">> <</if>> <<if $Fame eq 4>><<set $sFame to "If you haven't heard of $mcNick, you've lived your whole life under a rock">><</if>> <<if $Fame eq 5>><<set $sFame to "The King may only admire your reputation">><</if>> <<if $Piety eq 0>><<set $sPiety to "Untested in moral conundrums, who knows where your soul will go">> <</if>> <<if $Piety eq 1>><<set $sPiety to "You believe there's something immoral about murder">> <</if>> <<if $Piety eq 2>><<set $sPiety to "The averagely pious noble">> <</if>> <<if $Piety eq 3>><<set $sPiety to "$mcNick the Pious">> <</if>> <<if $Piety eq 4>><<set $sPiety to "$mcNick, to be sanctified upon death">> <</if>> <<if $Piety eq 5>><<set $sPiety to "$mcNick, the living Saint">> <</if>> <<if $Command eq 0>><<set $sCommand to "Could point out the enemy to an armed rabble">> <</if>> <<if $Command eq 1>><<set $sCommand to "Killing your enemies is a good thing... you think">> <</if>> <<if $Command eq 2>><<set $sCommand to "Career Warleader">> <</if>> <<if $Command is 3>><<set $sCommand to "You make leadership seem effortless">> <</if>> <<if $Command is 4>><<set $sCommand to "Best commander on the field">> <</if>> <<if $Command is 5>><<set $sCommand to "$mcNick, the Wojewoda">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 0>><<set $sMartial to "Good enough to kill a peasant... Probably">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 1>><<set $sMartial to "Can confidently kill peasants">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 2>><<set $sMartial to "Most nobles don't actually learn to fight much... you aren't one of them">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 3>><<set $sMartial to "You're a reliable Knight and Warrior">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 4>><<set $sMartial to "Your weapons are an extension of you">> <</if>> <<if $Martial eq 5>><<set $sMartial to "$mcNick, Elite Knight">> <</if>> <</nobr>>

Wojewoda - military (and sometimes noble) rank. Translated - Warleader.

Open Dialogue box <<script>> Dialog.setup("Dialog Title"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Character Sheet").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> Explanation text <<link "your man">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Explanation"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Sergeant").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>

In this realm, with the exception of higher nobility and the King Wist, nobles refer to each other by their title followed by their estate's name, not their family or dynasty name. Example: Baron Steve of House Stephenson whose Barony is called Blackwood, would refer to himself as Baron (or more vaguely, perhaps Lord) Blackwood, not Baron Stephenson. This naming tradition stands even if you use the first name as well, for example Baron Steve Blackwood, rather than Baron Steve Stephenson. A Wojewoda (Grand Duke), Knyaz (Duke) or Hrabia (Count) may be referred to by their title followed by their family or even personal name.

<center> <img src="images/BB/misc/Gareth.jpg" width="300" height="450"> Sergeant Gareth - your second-in-command, allowed almost everywhere you are, and something of a personal bodyguard. Also happens to be a good friend to you. </center>

<center> You canter your two horses to what seems like a nice place for a tentsite, then order Gareth to set it up for you. As you inform him that you're off to find Lord Wolner, he says: Gareth:"Remember to come back and train, or at least make sure your equipment is fine, Lord." <img src="images/BB/misc/Hilltent.webp" width="300" height="225"> You move on, now on foot, towards where you assume Lord Wolner's tent would be, at the top of the hill, standing just a few dozen meters next to the King's own tent. However, he isn't there, so you ask one of his guardsmen of his whereabouts. \ <<set $mcNick to $mcTitle + " " + $mcRealm>>\ $mcNick:"You there, lad, where is Lord Wolner?" Wolner's Sergeant:"I've no clue, mate, but I presume you're 'ere to report for duty." $mcNick:"Correct." Wolner's Sergeant:"Lemme git a pincil.I'm the one you're lookin' fer." You note the disgusting accent with which he speaks, realizing that probably most of Lord Wolner's men will speak that way, considering he's the Duke of Kellistra, bordering the Holliks to the east, the Atmanate to the southwest, and the Faiz to the south. He comes back with pen and paper in hand and asks... <<set $wRealm to "Kellistra">> Wolner's Sergeant:"What is your name, and how many men have you brought m'lord?" $mcNick:"My full name is Lord $mcTitle $mcName Czarny of $mcRealm, and I've 20 men with me, plus myself and my lad Gareth." Wolner's Sergeant:"They all <<link "militia">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Military rankings"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Wojska").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>, I presume?" $mcNick:"Correct." Wolner's Sergeant:"Thank you, m'lord, that is all." You grunt in response and walk away. With that done, you decide to do a little <<linkappend "exploring.">> <<include HillCamp1>><</linkappend>> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> Militia - Untrained, conscripted peasants with practically no equipment. Sometimes referred to as just peasants. Auxiliary - Men (usually militia) who are employed for the purposes of scouting and then foraging supply locations. Man-at-arms - Well equipped, usually quite experienced non-noble fighters. Knights - Non-hereditary title given to the absolute elite of fighers, noble and commoner alike. Often interchangeably used with cavalry, specifically heavy cavalry, because unmounted knights join the Men-at-arms. Sergeant - In skill and equipment, these men range from the level of veteran militiamen to veteran knights, but their purpose is to drill the men, organize them in between battles as well as ensure the carrying out of orders given by the Lords. </center>

<center>\ The first thing you notice, from the top of this hilltop, is your men having a bit of a tough time finding a place to settle into. Seems there's a bit of a kerfuffle. You might wanna go and help them out. Your barony is already small and weak, and having your men's appreciation could be the first step towards securing your dynasty's future. Just off to the side of the central campfire, you notice an infirmary and a shrine attached to it. You obviously don't need the medical aid, even though your buttocks still feel like wood from riding for two days, but Otherworldly Grace certainly can't hurt you. Or perhaps you ought to just fuck off back to Gareth, he did mention some training. Bloody insane, that man. [[Help your men out|HillCamp]] [[Go Pray|HillPrayer]] [[Go back to Gareth|HillGareth]] </center>

<center>\ "Oy ye feckin' cunt! You wanna tussle, is tha' it!?!" - You hear it before you even realize why your men have been struggling finding a site. "Fuck you, it's an empty spot! This is ours now" "What're you gonna do, stinky focks! Stab us with them pikes? Look at ye..." It is then that you are finally able to make some sense of the situation and who's who. The men right in front of you, with their backs to you are telling your men they can't settle down right there. Your men on the other hand, aren't letting down and have decided to settle here, and now it seems like a battle is about to ensue. Stupid as it may be to challenge clearly better equipped soldiers than them, it is a pretty nice spot, considering it's right next to the center of the camp, and away from the hill enough that the noble's shitters aren't gonna raing down on them during the night. They just have to <<linkappend "deal with the men in front of them!">> <br><br> Well that certainly ain't happening, a fight breaking out would be horrible for your men's health, and even worse for you in the political sense. A bunch of men-at-arms attacked by a shitty Baron's peasants. It would ruin you<</linkappend>> <img src="images/BB/misc/Guarguing.jpg" width=300 height = 300> You ought to intervene. But what will you do? [[Put the Almighty's Fear in them|HillDread]] [[Order the men to desist|HillCommand]] </center>

<center> <<set $Piety++>> The shrine, if it can even be called that, is just a table inside of a thin flimsy tent upon which offerings have been placed, presumably from the various soldiers who wish to ensure their souls' safety if they don't make it through the next battle. <img src="images/BB/misc/Rosary.webp" width="175" height="260">\ As you kneel down and start praying, the words of the Holy Script already practiced and drilled into you throughout your education:"Ojcze nasz...", you remember the Holy Script... The Holy Script states that there is one God, the Almighty, and He demands from His Children, the Humans, to love one another, to care for one another, to live in humility, and to carry the weight of your Sins without anger. Your fight with Sin is Eternal. This prayer serves to alleviate at least a little bit of the doom and gloom which has been hovering over your head since you set out from $mcRealm. "<<linkreplace "...ale nas zbaw od złego.">> ...and save us from evil. <</linkreplace>>" [[What a pussy you are|Hill1][$Piety--]] [[May the Almighty forgive the Höll as well.|Hill1][$Piety++]] [[Amen|Hill1]] \ \ \ </center>

<center> You walk back to see your tent up and standing, Gareth next to the tent, checking his axe. <img src="images/BB/misc/Tent.webp" width=300 height = 300> Gareth:"Welcome back, m'lord, I'm about to unpack your things inside, just after I sharpen <<linkappend "Ol' Harlot">> (Gareth's axe) <</linkappend>> here. You know what I always say, Lord." $mcNick:"Keep doing that, I'll unpack my own things." Gareth:"Yes, sir." $mcNick:"Then we fight." To this, Gareth only smiles in response, knuckles white while gripping his Harlot. You head in, clean up a bit of the ground where you intend to put your sleeping cot. You unfurl it and place it down on the ground. You pull the chest with your clothes inside, open it, move all the dirty clothes away to take them to somebody to wash them and bring up the slightly less dirty clothes from the bottom to the top. You don't bother with setting up a stool and table from which to write letters. After all, you got here pretty late and suspect you won't be staying here long. On top of that, you're a lowly $mcTitle, it's unlikely you'll have much correspondence of any kind. Because of that, you quickly get done with the rest of the settling in, and step out to tussle with Gareth. \ Gareth:"Shall we?" $mcNick:"We shall." You and Gareth spar the way you've always sparred, like a pair of hungry beasts fighting for the last strip of meat. For a while you spar with wooden swords, then with blunted ones, then with shields, and again without shields, an so on and you're sure you're gonna feel a bit tired tomorrow. Still, this is worthwhile. One can never have enough training. <<set $Martial++>>\ A little over an hour passes and you're now certain you're going to be exhausted come the morrow. Ending your sparring session, you two sit down on the grass and start talking, like when you were children. Gareth:"Haah...ahh... That was a good session, m'lord." $mcNick:"Ooof," you yelp, as you sit down next to him:"yeah that was pretty bad. Also you don't have to call me lord, brother. There's no one around." Gareth:"Gotcha." Gareth:"Hey, you think we're gonna have to ride like these past few days again? You said you expect us to go on the move soon." $mcNick:"No way. We rode the way we did because it was us 22 men and we had to get to the camp quickly. If this whole army goes on the march, we will be moving at a much slower pace than our merry little band had to on the way here." Gareth:"Good. I thought this training would get the blood flowing again, but my buttocks still feel like they're choking." $mcNick:"Hahahaha, choking? I've never heard that term used in that way before..." You continue to chat for a little bit while waiting to come down from the exhaustion. $mcNick:"I'm off. Don't die here. You'll embarass me in front of the Lords." Gareth:"Eat a dick." You remembered you wanted to explore the camp, but you think back to Gareth's <<linkappend "wise words">>: "Hoes ain't loyal" <<linkappend "No, not those">>, but he does always say: "A soldier's best friend is his weapon." <</linkappend>><</linkappend>> Perhaps you ought to check your equipment and sharpen your sword. A bad piece of steel, or a splinter in your shield might be the end of your life. [[Get your sharpening stone out|Sharpen]] [[Go explore|Hill1]] </center>

<center> $mcNick:"Oy you there!" <img src="images/BB/misc/Baron1.webp" width=550 height = 380> $mcNick:"Why are you harassing the King's Men? Who told you to do that?!" <img src="images/BB/misc/Scared.jpg" width=300 height = 300> The man, who at first seemed resolute, now clutches his sword as comfort from the lord who's staring him down. Man-at-arms:"N-n-nobody, m'lord!" He holds up his hands to try to appear non-threatening. $mcNick:"Then why are you holding the King's Army back? Are you a spy?" Man-at-arms:"No no, I'm not, m'lord, I swear!" $mcNick:"I'm not so sure. What would a King's soldier have to gain from interfering with fellow King's soldier's business?" Man-at-arms:"We was j-just... just having a bit of fun..." He says shyly. $mcNick:"If you don't get your sorry ass out of here and take your girlfriends with you, I'll have you all lashed like the SORRY CUNTS YOU ARE!!", you yell out as they start scurrying away to drive the point home. Your militiaman:"Thank you Lord, you really scared those sissies straight. Let's hope the Holliks are just as easily routed." <<set $Dread++>> ''//Check your Character Sheet. This is the only time you will be notified of a skill change//''. [[You continue exploring.|Hill1]] </center>

<center> $mcNick:"You there lad!" <img src="images/BB/misc/Baron1.webp" width=550 height = 380>\ The man now stands scared shitless, clutching his own sword as some sort of shield from the verbal lashing he clearly expects. It seems his lord is not a very merciful one. <img src="images/BB/misc/Scared.jpg" width=300 height = 300> $mcNick:"Who's your Lord?" Man-at-arms:"Lord Wolner, sir." $mcNick:"What a coincidence. I was just up on <<link "Höll Gora">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Explanation"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Gora").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>\ \ and reported to Lord Wolner that I've brought my men here to settle in and we're ready for war. Imagine his surprise if he were to find out there's men who aren't ready, and it's YOU who's at fault." You point a threatening finger to drive the point home. \ \ \ Man-at-arms:"Sorry, sir. We won't do it again." $mcNick:"No, I trust you won't. In fact, my men have just arrived from the road, so I'm sure you will be happy to help setting up their camps and sharpen their weapons?" Man-at-arms:"But...Bu-" $mcNick:"Good. Have a great day." This is a good result. Not only have your men (as well as other Lords' men) seen you standing up for those under you, thereby improving your reputation, but you also will have at least nominally better equipped soldiers under you. Every good commander knows that equipping your men will improve your chances in battle, even if it's not as good as training them. <<set $Fame++>> <<set $Command++>> [[You continue exploring.|Hill1]] \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> Gora(translated) - Hill, or mountain. You've found out this hill has been named after the Principality of Höll, which, as you suspected is indeed the first target of the King's crusade. </center>

<center>\ <img src="images/BB/misc/TentCity.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> The camp is much larger than you expected. From your position to as far as your eye can see ground, the land is covered in tents and fires. All around you are sounds of behaviour you would expect from a horde of peasants at war. Laughing, screaming, drinking and such. There's a fight breaking out in the distance, just a couple of tents away from that, there's a big dance converging around a man playing something in the middle, by the fire. In the center of the tent city, just below the hills where the nobles tents are, lie the most important sections. You remember having read and heard about how all war camps, particularly of a certain size attract all kinds of civilian accompaniment, but you never imagined it to be of such a size. The amount of hookers you see in the back end, just on the edge of the tent city is unbelievable. To think that they are only a part of the whole host of non-combatants makes your head hurt. The stink that must follow them wherever they go, and who knows how safe it even is... Well, I suppose that's one thing you have in common with them. Actually, that's something everyone in this camp has in common. Nobody here knows if they will see the sun rise tomorrow. Nobody. You still shake off the dread from your thoughts. You try to distract yourself with the sights some more. There are several marketplaces, though only one of them resembles the kind you would find in a more urban, settled environment. Most of them are just slightly more dense areas of the camp where soldiers trade things around with each other. Even in your desolate barony the traders and merchants have a better framework. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ [[Go to the marketplace|Hill2]] </center>\

<center> <<set $Martial++>>\ You start off with the sword. Your longsword is your only weapon for close quarters. The only other things you have in your arsenal are shield and lance. If you ever get caught by surprise, nothing but your longsword will help you fight them off. This and the fact that the sword is something of a noble's weapon, have both made you stick to maintaining this weapon every day while on the road. You took about a week to get here, and every single day you oiled it, wiped it and when <<linkappend "needed">> (never) <</linkappend>> also sharpened it. You sharpen it just slightly, then move on to your shield. The thing which will quite literally guard your life, has a very noticeable gap in the seams, at the bottom of the shield. If an arrow were to strike here, or even a sword, it would almost certainly pass enough to slice or pierce something just behind it. Luckily you do have a <<linkappend "brigandine">> (a bunch of small steel plates riveted into cloth) <</linkappend>> <img src="images/BB/misc/Brigandine.webp" width=150 height = 250> bearing your house's symbol, so you wouldn't have been killed by it, but it's still something you should patch up. You get out a strip of wood, made more or less specifically for this purpose, place it up to the gap and hammer it together with the rest of the shield. A crude patchwork, but it's better now than it was a second ago. You think about instead going to the local blacksmith and getting a new one, but there's no reason to do so yet. You'll fight with this well enough. Next up, you check your armor, not your lance, since there's nothing that would ever get a noble like yourself to neglect your lance. The brigandine is in more or less pristine condition. Your helmet, a nasal helmet is your headwear of choice. It will rest on top of a chainmail, which will guard your neck, chin and everything below your eyes. The reason you chose this setup is because it offers you much more visibility. Seeing your enemy is always a plus, and you've practised enough that you know not to compromise that for yourself. You're too young to have been in the last war, so you must hope that practice has been enough of a substitute. <img src="images/BB/misc/Nasal.webp" width=200 height = 250> You take a little brisk walk, trying to get a grasp of the camp's layout before nightfall, you want to get a full night's sleep, because you're certain tomorrow will be marching time. You walk swiftly and yet... [[Quickly enough, the sun sets|HillNight]]\ so you decide to move back to your camp to sleep. </center>

<center> <img src="images/BB/misc/Smith.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> Once again, you're surprised by this camp's size and industrial capacity, it's got both a weaponsmith and an armorsmith. Your barony hasn't had a single weapon or armorsmith since your grandfather's time. This camp has both... How do they even carry a whole furnace around with them? You think of asking some of the men around about that, as bizarre as that may be, but then you see a couple of them with fairly light clothes, slightly wet and coming back with smiles on their faces. You stink like shit, having been on the road for a 2 miserable days, and not showering even once during that period. Are you about to find a shower next? This camp already has a bunch of smiths, and an entire mini-city following after it, why not also an entire bath made out of marble? You move towards the hill they're coming from and move over it and find that to your surprise, it's not a bath, but a stream of water. \ \ \ \ \ \ [[Go to the stream|HillStream]] </center>

<center> Coming up to it, you find the water to be crystal clear. There isn't a single blemish to this stream whatsoever. It's the perfect place to bath. A beautiful place to bath, but it is a bit crowded (LINK), so you decide to look for a secluded place. After all, a noble shouldn't be seen naked by the commoners. Going downstream, you get in your own head and only realize you've moved a couple hundred meters from the camp, and have stumbled into a forested little area. The camp is situated on a hill and the plains around it. You hadn't even seen these woods on your approach. You really ought to pay attention to your environs more, this would be an easy place to get attacked from. <img src="images/BB/misc/stream.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="left"> Having found the secluded place you were looking for, you step into the forest a bit further, come upon some rocks when you hear some <<linkappend "noise">> <video src="images/BB/misc/giggle.webm" height=_height width=_width muted loop controls> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> It's two women, whom you can only assume are prostitutes, since there aren't any womenfolk hanging around a war camp that aren't, they're playing around in the water gossiping. They spot you and anger flashes in their eyes momentarily, but spotting your noble attire, they change their minds about yelling at you. Instead their demeanor changes to a tense and somewhat scared one. After all, many nobles before have gotten away with all kinds of tortures comitted against whores, and they are isolated from the rest here, uncertain of their future at the moment. One of them, clearly used to being around nobles, hangs her head down, which the other one follows, and asks you in what you are certain is fake affection... Whore:"Good day m'lord, would you like to shower here?" You see no reason to refuse, but decide against sticking it in these women. Your first time should not happen like this. $mcNick:"Sure. You do not have to fear anything. I am only here to shower." At this, you see them visibly relax, tension leaving their backs and their hands quickly move to hug each other in total defense, after their silent acknowledgement of how much danger they might've just been in. You strip off and move into the water, it's freezing and clear nature allowing you to feel both cold from the water, and hot from the sight of these two women at the same time. You decide against allowing yourself more temptation, and dip entirely into the water, quickly regretting it and coming out with a panicked look in your eye. The women, clearly grateful for the mercy you have shown them, move in and rub the dirt away from your youthful and muscular body. Whore:"Rough riding, m'lord? Allow us to help... please." You make no move to respond, but do not push them away either. As the less experienced whore moves in and rubs your chest from dirt, the more experienced one decides you're not comfy enough and lays you down on a boulder, the type of natural occurence most known for it's comfort. She then gets on top of you and gives you a beautiful view of her pert ass, as you start to feel their wet hands start to alternate in milking your dick. <video src="images/BB/misc/Hj.webm" height=_height width=_width muted loop controls> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> <video src="images/BB/misc/montage.webm" height=_height width=_width muted loop autoplay> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> This goes on a while as you imagine the two of them, loving and caressing each other through this hard and rough time, which you know is going to be filled with death. The sight of these two gentle, soft beauties may as well be Angelic Grace itself descending down to the Earth, relieving you of your stress temporarily. <video src="images/BB/misc/coom.webm" height=_height width=_width muted loop autoplay> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> And finally you cum. The whores promptly leave, clearly feeling like they've done their duty, and leave you to shower the Sin away. You do so as quickly as possible, and dress. [[Go back to your tent|HillNight]] <</linkappend>> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> First thing you notice even before you enter your tent is that Gareth is not here. You find a note outside on the flap of your tent and it reads: </center> <i> "Lord $mcNick, One of the other men came and said I don't need to guard your tent, the King and the Upper Nobility have employed their own personal guards to guard this whole sector. I've gone downhill to help the men with training and anything else if needed. Signed, Gareth." </i> \ <center>\ \ It's true, you hadn't paid much attention to it earlier, but when you went up to report to Lord Wolner, or rather his second, no other tent had guards. This whole section of the camp is full of tents of almost all the nobles of this realm. The men guarding the nobility are only around the outskirts and in a few crossings here and there. It's smart, it requires less men to guard, there is no need for some messy messaging system to come about between the sergeants of all the different nobles, the security of all the nobility is higher than it would be otherwise, and most importantly it is in the King's and Lord Wolner's hands. All of the men guarding the nobility are bearing the King's or the Wojewoda's symbols. Thinking about this from the entrance to your tent, you spot a young man, probably even younger than you, walking towards the tent next to yours. He waves to you and steps up to introduce himself: Unknown Noble:"Hullo there,mate. I'm Krzystoff. Krzystoff of Corliss." He reaches out to shake your hand. <<set $nameKr to "Krzystoff">>\ <<set $realmKr to "Korlis">>\ <<set $nickKr to "Hrabia Korlis">> <img src="images/BB/misc/Kor.webp" width=250 height = 120> Krzystoff of Korlis? That's the Wojewoda's son shaking your hand. The second most powerful man in the Kingdom, maybe even the most powerful, and his son is shaking hands with possibly the least powerful noble in the Kingdom? You certainly shouldn't forget your gentlemanly manners right now... $mcNick:"Lord $mcTitle $mcName $mcRealm of House Czarny." You shake his hand firmly, as one should. Lord Korlis:"Nice to meet you.Oh, I know of you! Your barony is just on the border beyond my father's Wojewodship. I suppose you're looking to improve your standing in this venture?" $mcNick:"Indeed I am, though it is my father's barony. In fact, I must. As you know, this raid that has been launched against our Kingdom, while it didn't physically reach\ our lands, it severed the connection we had to the rest of the Kingdom. Our estate was already in a poor state, and this has unfortunately damaged it severely." Lord Korlis:"Well I have faith in you, my friend. Our Kingdom is glorious and we will destroy these treacherous Holliks, and when we do that, we will bring down the Vizier as well.\ My father has won many battles and I'm certain he will lead us to victory again.<i> Then your barony shall flourish. Mark my words</i>" $mcNick:"I shall hope to live to see the day." As you consider his words, you take care to focus on the fact that he seems to be at least 8 years your junior. He would sound insane if you didn't focus on that.\ He is young, and has been raised in a glorious House, marked with very important\ and recent victories. Even though neither of you have ever seen true combat, you are certain you have seen more struggle than he. He's about to say something, when he looks to his left, your right and you turn to follow his gaze. A little bit away, you notice a large amount of horses being fed, brushed and groomed when one of the horsemen\ yells out:"We're leaving tomorrow, make sure all the horses are tended to." Lord Korlis:"It seems tomorrow begins the advance, friend. We ought to get some sleep. Sweet dreams." $mcNick:"Same to you, too." And with that, he leaves. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ So tomorrow brings you one day closer to death. Though you might be afraid, you fight yourself to not let that fear overtake you and make you sob in the middle of the camp.\ With that thought, you move inside the tent, where you feel at least nominally safer and lay down on your sleeping cot, trying to rationalize this fleshcrawling fear that has followed you since you left $mcRealm. After a little tossing and turning, exhaustion overpowers you and you fall deeply into...\ [[Sleep|Sleep]]\ </center>

<center> You dream of a time when you were just a kid, when you had fallen in love with a girl for the first time. \ \ Ever since you learned to read as a kid, which your teachers only managed to convince you of doing after they promised they would let Gareth study with you, and you two promised to pay attention in class, you would always run around and try to find whatever merchant, traveller or even mercenary would come across the tiny little town that constituted your father's barony. You would ask them for stories, letters and descriptions of places you've never heard about, and they would often be accomodated by your father as recompense. You wonder if it is this attitude towards finances that drove your father's barony even further into poverty than it had been before him. Not only did this move drive travellers away from the Inn - the Drinking Log, but it actively drained your finances feeding and sheltering these guests. Still, this did foster a reputation for your barony as a very welcoming and hospitable one, which did drive up trade to a certain degree. Regardless, back to the wanderers. \ Among these weary travellers was a man named Jannik. He was the only merchant ever to make visits to your barony for multiple years in succession. He had a wife, Helga, and a daughter Kaya, who all traveled together with their caravan guards. Kaya, you and Gareth would hang out whenever they were in town, and you all worried your parents as one merry trio of ne'er-do-wells. It was through various shenanigans that you grew closer to Kaya and even closer to Gareth. At a certain point in your late teenage years, you found out that being around Kaya makes you feel in ways that being around Gareth had never made you feel. Seeing how her brown hair hugs her head, the suntanned skin she had from travelling with her parents all the time, the small frame of her back and chest, gentle hands on your own, and most of all the 2 big new additions between the stomach and the collarbone, all woke up in you a new kind of appreciation for human beauty. It was a warm monday morning when you two had snuck out to a lonely little meadow for a couple of hours and you had the first <<linkappend "kiss of your life.">> <<set _src="images/BB"+_src>> <video src="images/BB/misc/kiss.webm" height=_height width=_width autoplay loop controls> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> <</linkappend>> <img src="images/BB/misc/meadow.webp" width=400 height = 250> It was beautiful, her lips tasted like the most succulent fruit from the Almighty's garden, and the hair was standing on the back of your neck. You felt electricity rushing through your veins, butterflies flittering around your belly. Oh yeah.\ As you continue recalling and dreaming your first kiss, you feel a weirdly cold sensation on your lips. No, her lips weren't cold... \ \ [[What the fuck?|GrabaBrush]] </center>

<center> You wake up on your back looking up at the ceiling of the tent. You notice it's leaking from one point near where the pole holds up the peak of the tent and water(hopefully water) has dripped down to your lips. You joke to yourself about whipping Gareth for ripping the tent. <img src="images/BB/misc/Leak.webp" width=400 height = 250> Speaking of Gareth, that was a weird dream... You remember being confused for a couple of days why he wouldn't speak to you, thinking he was mad 'cause you two had gone out to the meadow without him. When you finally realized he also fancied her, as well as why he wouldn't get pissed off at you and yell, as you felt you would've done if the roles were reversed, that was the first time you finally understood the full weight of your position as a noble. He <b>couldn't</b> say anything. <img src="images/BB/misc/Father.webp" width=300 height = 500 align="right"> You are the Lord's son, and your father's, the Baron's son, while he is a peasant who only ever even learned to read because of Your Grace. This had been the realization which broke your spirit for a couple of months, as you matured from boy into man, ready to take on the injustices of this world, as was decreed by the Almighty. Gareth is your sergeant now, and Kaya is nowhere to be seen. You shall lay down your lives for this Kingdom, and be equal in death, if not in life. But until that day comes, Gareth will be protected by all the might you have, and you know he will protect you with all he has, too. With these sobering thoughts, and a pair of wet lips, you dress yourself in your brigandine, and step out; ready to join today's advance towards Höll. Stepping out, you notice the camp is still and silent. Well it's far from silent actually, but the sounds you hear are not those that should be present if it was about to go on the move. The horsemen aren't in the position you saw them in last night, but the rest of the camp is the same. How confusing... You walk around for a bit, finally spotting that cavalry group from last night. Their horses are in formation, some of them mounted, clearly ready to move out. There appear to be even more of them now than you saw last night. This is a veritable army of it's own assembled separately of the camp. Now that you're closer and the dayligth makes shit clearer, you see they're mostly light cavalry. Is this a scouting party? You come up to a man that looks to be in charge and ask... <img src="images/BB/misc/cavalry line.webp" width=350 height = 200 align="center"> $mcNick:"You there, what is going on? When are we going on the march?" Captain:"M'lord, I believe <b>you</b> aren't going on the march yet, if you've not been asked by Lord Wolner to join us. We're to move ahead of the rest of the army for now. I don't know when the camp is to move." $mcNick:"To scout?" The captain looks without moving his head much, then back at you: Captain:"Pardon?" $mcNick:"Are you going on a scouting mission?" Captain:"I'm not sure, m'lord... I don't have the right to say it..." $mcNick:"Sure..." You find his behaviour very suspicious, and confusing more than anything, but regardless you see he will not give you an answer so you let him off. $mcNick:"Very well, good luck and off with you." Captain:"Of course, Lord. Thank you." It seems today isn't the start of the march either. You don't expect such a large camp would start it's march at any point other than morning.\ The men would likely be drunk, tired and who knows what else which would make the move more difficult.\ No, now that you think, you suspect you will get a notice the night before you make the move to make starting the march more easy. Which means today is another free day. You think today would be a good day for some training<<if $Martial >0 >>, that is to augment some of the training you've done yesterday<</if>>. <span id="Martial"><<linkreplace "Train">><<remove "#Command">> <<if $Martial <2>> <<set $Martial++>> You train through your exhaustion and manage to learn something new. <<else>> You realize you're too tired from the tussle with Gareth yesterday and move on, having only wasted your time on needless training.<</if>>\ <</linkreplace>></span>\ <span id="Command"><<linkreplace "Drill the men">><<remove "#Martial">> <<set $Command++>> You move downhill and ask around for a sergeant to group up a band of men who want to learn to fight. All the men who come are scared militiamen, to whom you instill a measure of confidence through training, discipline and merciless drills. By the end you notice a rough looking formation being crystallized out of this band of armed peasants. Good enough, hopefully they're going to survive, but it's time to move on. <</linkreplace>></span>\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ [[Evening comes...|NoblesTalk]] </center>

<center> <<set $mcTitley to "Barony">> Soon enough, night falls onto the hill camp. The Wojewoda has sent out invitations to a kind of evening get-together of nobles to facilitate relations among the commanders of this army. After all, almost all the nobles of the Kingdom, and practically every single fighting noble in the Kingdom has gotten together at this spot. There is still the question of those who haven't arrived yet, almost three weeks now since the war has started, but regardless, they are few and far between. <img src="images/BB/misc/dancing.webp" width=250 height = 250 align="left"> As you approach the party centered around a large fire, you see nobles in regular attire all conversing with each other happily, beards being stroked while deep in thought, jokes and stories being countered with smiles and laughs, you see that the men in the distance have also largely decided to follow after their lords and make an evening party of their own. They dance and drink in much more rude and non-gentle ways than your side of the camp does. However, for all their lackings and limitations, they do have one thing that you do not, that is to say the whores dancing on their tables, the women of low morale, which you nobles are never to be seen around. Not that you believe there is a single lord around here older than you, and probably many of the ones younger than you, that has not at least dabbled in some whore's guts. <<set $krTitle to "Hrabia">>\ As you attempt to mingle with the rest of nobility, you quickly find out that most of them have no desire to speak with you. It doesn't even have much to do with your $mcTitley's poor standing, you just have no place here. Most of the nobility are already veterans, who view this party as a way to reunite with old friends, war buddies, brothers in arms and such. Everyone above a certain age here has already fractured themselves into groups, so you and the other young Nobles are <<linkappend "left to converse with each other.">> You take your place next to $nickKr, as you have found out is his title, which you are very glad to see he welcomes. As improper as it may be to see you two hanging about each other, you get the sense that he is just as much a lost puppy in this campaign as you are. Soon your mettle will be tested though. The advance can't be too far away, and the battles that shall accompany it, too, must be coming closer with every <h style="color:Black;background-color:white">''dreadful''</h> minute. $nickKr:"So... you nervous?" $mcNick:"Hmmmm... a little." You try to fake it till you make it, so you pretend for a second that you're searching yourself for nervousness, that it isn't on the cusp of overtaking you every passing moment. $nickKr:"I'm nervous as fuck. $mcNick, my father told me tomorrow is the start of the advance. I'm focking terrified." Well that's just great, but also to be expected, the realm has dragged it's feet long enough. It does make sense, even though it terrifies you beyond the bone. You try to remember some wise words, whether by some of the many travellers you've spoken to, or even better your father, to conjure up some magic of soothing speech, but you realize you have to fight with every bit of your willpower just to keep your face from removing it's stoic, or deadpan mask, and breaking into tears, asking for your mommy and daddy. As stupid as it is, it seems to work. At least on the good $krTitle, it does. $nickKr:"I wish I could be as brave as you, $mcTitle, you seem so resolute." To which you just raise your eyebrows silently. $nickKr:"Oh man... I can't feel like this, I'm a Noble and a Knight... I shall try to find conviction in your resolution, $mcNick. To think that the only way to save your $mcTitley is to go to this war and succeed or die trying is filling me with otherworldly courage. That is our creed as Nobles, to face this World's plights and better it with our efforts or expire before we are able to do that. You are an ''exemplar'', Sir $mcRealm." Though you find those words flattering, extremely flattering in fact, you realize he is now doing what you have figured out a long time ago. Fake it till you make it. No amount of perceiving the plight with which you have been faced during this war, no amount of abstractions and philosophical contemplations is going to remove the ever approaching doom of this clash of steel, meat and blood that you are going to be involved in. You lay a hand on his shoulder, understanding fully what he is dealing with, with even less experience than you. In fact, about 8 years less... Luckily, the Wojewoda, his father approaches, as is to be expected. This meeting ''is'' after all supposed to get the attending nobles to familiarize themselves with each other. <<linkappend "You gaze at him.">> <img src="images/BB/misc/wojewoda.jpg" width=250 height = 350 align="center"> The Wojewoda, an averagely tall, scarred, man in his fifties(?), has no fear marring his face or gait as he approaches the two of you. The Wojewoda:"Good evening, son, good evening..." $mcNick:"$mcNick" The Wojewoda raises his eyebrows in what you assume to be recognition and smiles:"$mcNick, how are you two doing?" $mcNick:"A little nervous, to be honest Wojewoda... I've never been to war. We could use some advice." The Wojewoda:"Perfectly understandable, lads, war is no trifle. You ought to stick to the rest of the Lancers, keep your shield arm up, and don't take unnecessary risks" At this, he points to his eye," or this might happen to ya. But my advice over everything else you can possibly do, is to keep your head. In war and peace, never succumb to your primal nature, and always aim to do what makes sense. Keep your head calm, and you'll keep it on your shoulders." The Wojewoda continues:"As for tomorrow or the day after or the coming days, I will tell you two a bit of a military secret, and you already know part of this, Krzystoff, but for a while now, we're probably gonna have an easy time fighting. After all, I'm leading the war effort. And the Holliks are gonna fall into a trap I've set up." You decide to ask:"Is this what the horsemen are for? The ones that left..." <img src="images/BB/misc/Wojewodas.webp" width=400 height = 250 align="center"> The Wojewoda gives you a sly smile before he leaves and says:"We shall see, son, we shall see." $nickKr:"I'm your son y..." he mutters, though you don't pay attention. You are lightyears away, thinking about what he could've done with only horsemen to trap the enemy. Plus they're light horsemen, so there's no expectation of them doing anything more than harassing or skirmishing\ with the enemy. You know that the enemy is largely concentrated to the south, at the crown city of Tomit, but to get there your army will need at least two days? Since Höll is an almost entirely mountainous region, it's acted as a natural buffer zone between your Kingdom and the Great Vizierlik. It would take you a long time to get anywhere, passing through such mountainous terrain. Hence, this army isn't the trap your enemies would be lead to by these horsemen. At least not long enough for them to not realize that they're being lead to a trap. You're confused, and the fact that you don't know anything about the military strategy is drawing your thoughts back to the realization that you will have to make sure you yourself are good enough to fend for yourself, and you have no confidence in that, and now you're starting to get scared again. <</linkappend>>\ <</linkappend>>\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ Fuck this party, the [[bed is better company.|Sleep2]] </center>

<center> Finishing your nightly prayer, you lay down on the cot and try to remember what you know of Lord Wolner. Lord Wolner is known as the Wojewoda, and for good reason. Since the civil war, which your grandfather chose the wrong side in, left your Kingdom far weaker than it had been before. Much of the lands to your $mcTitley's northwest and southwest was lost. In fact, that war is the reason your $mcTitley borders the Gellardi to the north. The lands to your south west, west of Höll, are the lands where the Wojewoda has made much of his reputation. The lands were lost in the civil war, and the Wojewoda's father had not had much success in reconquering them from the only part of his Duchy which had remained - Korliss. After having lost those lands to the Vizierlik and some of their newly found client states, your Kingdom also lost some very valuable resources in the many mines of Kellistra. Until, that is, the Old Grand Duke (the Wojewoda's father) raised a son, trained him in the art of war, sent him off to as many conflicts in the Kingdom as he could, as well as a couple of his now late brothers. The story of his ascent is one that shall certainly stand the test of time. The slaughter of Stor was the first major victory in just above fifty years for the Kingdom. The armies of the Atman (ruler of the Atmanate) had all coalesced in the mountainous regions of northern $wRealm, foreign to their valley-ridden Atmanate. The Wojewoda used this knowledge to the best of his abilities, and gave them every opportunity to descend onto a plateau near the village Stor, a plateau which is surrounded by mountains reaching higher than the plateau. On top of that, he did something that the Atmanites never expected. He utilized mounted archers to get them into every high-rise around the Atmanite Army, and then told them to let loose. After two hours of constant pelting, while the Atmanites stood in place holding their shields up, the spearmen (who were holding the first line of defence) of Atman had all tired dropped their shields and either fled, or died. And then the regular cavalry was given the order which made this already incredibly bloody day be known throughout the Kingdom and the Atmanate in infamy. The charge downhill from two different sides of cavalry, heavy and light had cut down almost all the fighting men the Atmanate had in less than two and a half hours. Some say so many bodies had been piled on top of each other afterwards, that the plateau had been filled up and rose now above the high points around it. <img src="images/BB/misc/Stor.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> And from this mountain of death, arose the Wojewoda. Known throughout the Kingdom as the Warleader (literally), and throughout our neighboring realms as the hellstorm which will be released upon them should they ever find themselves at odds with us. Soon after Stor, the Wojewoda lead a war campaign against the client states in the rest of $wRealm, and eventually even against Faiz itself, though it was much easier than against the Atmanates, since the majority of the people in $wRealm have always been Swiatlans. Since then, all of $wRealm stands united under one banner - the Wojewoda's. That puts you at between one and two decades of peace now, during which you obviously hadn't been warring anywhere. But one thing was certain, The Kingdom of Swiatla had returned to it's glory, and it had tasted blood. Perhaps this is what persuaded the Höll Principality to join the Faizis in this attack against your Kingdom. Even though Höll is defensible enough due to it's mountains, they are still a much smaller realm compared to yours, and even more so compared to the Great Faiz. While reminiscing, you don't even notice yourself fall asleep.\ \ \ \ [[Wake up dreamlessly.|Advance]] </center>

<center> <img src="images/BB/misc/wetland.webp" width=250 height = 250 align="center"> It's a cold morning, as the past two days have been, when you are told to form up with the rest of the Knights and move quickly forward.\ <<linkappend "The enemy has been spotted.">> You have been carrying your equipment with you both today and yesterday, understanding that if you can walk them into an ambush, they can do the same. You've seen a couple of contingents of men be ordered to move ahead of the army throughout the advance's pauses so far, and remain unburdened with nervousness from these subtractions of your army's manpower, as you already know the plan, unlike the men under you and some of the other nobles. You quickly form on Knyaz Borva, a well-respected commander in his own right. You end up forming a wedge, you yourself coming into the front line, on the left wing. This formation is used to drive and breakthrough enemy lines, cut them into two. It looks vaguely like an arrowhead if you look at it from the top. <img src="images/BB/misc/horn.webp" width=250 height = 250 align="center"> Steadily you march at the horn's signal, slowly moving your horses up into cantering speed. Quickly enough, this separates you from the main body of the army as you head into a forest, not dense enough to impede your cavalry's movements. As you keep cantering, you see to your right, $nickKr, his lance shaking and periodically clanking against his armored foot, then head, then back to foot. $mcNick:"$realmKr b...", but then you change your mind. He will get through this. His own father isn't going to just march his only child into death... you hope. Before you get a chance to reconsider, something else \ <<linkappend "draws your attention.">> You don't see anything remarkable ahead of you. Or around you. But you do hear something, almost right in front of you, slightly, to the left. Your formation canters forward, turning a bit leftward, which, as you get closer come to understand is the sound of fighting. Now that you're closer, you hear it, and even see something, just beyond the veil of trees in front of you, can't be more than a thousand paces away, you see masses of armored bodies fighting each other, you hear the clamor of steel, the armored feet on the ground, the sound of two groups clashing very clearly now. Borva yells out a clear order while holding up a hand:"''HAAALT''" You note his <h style="color:grey;background-color:black">commanding</h> voice. He takes out a little metal can, not at all unlike those metal canisters some people have begun to store food in. I mean, he is a bit on the big side, but he can't possibly b... He unfurls the thingamabob, it seems inside were more of the same metal cans, all attached to each other, but gradually smaller in size. He puts the smallest to his eye. I guess he's watching things with it. He does this for a while, in absolute silence. Some of the other nobles are a bit restless, all of them as inexperienced as you. The men around you are all young Nobles, probably assigned to this task so they would be "broken in", to become prepared for fighting, used to it, at least as much as one can get used to it. The Knyaz packs the ocular device up, stores it back into wherever he pulled it from, and turns slightly: <img src="images/BB/misc/CavSpeech.webp" width=450 height = 250 align="center"> <p style="color:white;background-color:Black">"''MEN'', IN FRONT OF US IS ONLY A LINE OF MARKSMEN, THE ENEMY IS ALREADY AMBUSHED AND DISORGANIZED! IT'S OUR DUTY TO CHARGE AT THESE SUCKERS, AVENGE THE FALLEN BORDERGUARDS, AND DESTROY THE HOLLIKS!"</p> To this, you hear a relatively forceful hurrah resounding from the men. <p style="color:white;background-color:Black">GRAB YER LANCES, SONS OF SWIATLA! FORM A WEDGE! ON ME! ON ME! ''CHARGE!!!''</p> To this, the entire contingent of about two to three hundred men rallies all the air in their lungs to sound a cacophony of battlecries as they charge towards enemy lines. You can't help but join in and scream death to your lungs. In mere moments, you realize you will be upon the enemy archers, completely untrained and unprepared to fight against cavalry, which means\ [[Death rides with you today.|AmbushSkirmish]] <</linkappend>> \ <</linkappend>> \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> <img src="images/BB/misc/Charge.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> As you ride out of the forest lines, you take note to observe your surroundings for a split second before the inevitable impact into the group of men in front of you. You note that the front line is lined with spearmen, to your left, you will be riding and charging parallel to their position. In front of you is a line of archers, perpendicular to your cavalry formation, behind them are two columns of swordsmen and another archer column way in the "back" (at least from your perspective). Since you're on the front line of the left wing of your wedge, you assume any movement you make will be at least somewhat followed by the men behind you, so you must be careful with your tactics today. You understand that they chose this formation most likely because of the dense narrow pathway inside of which they're fighting the enemy, the enemy you now realize are your fellow countrymen. The spearmen hold the front from forest line to forest line, and the columns of swordsmen are at their back, slightly apart from each other, so the portion of spearmen in the center can retreat and draw the enemy into fighting from three sides. The marksmen have been positioned on the corners of this fighting group to ensure better accuracy, or rather, less friendly fire. You don't notice any significant portion of cavalry from their side, which is to be expected, you suppose. Though there are a few more than a dozen horsemen, light horsemen it looks like, to the right of the far column of marksmen, way in front of you. <i><u> Hint: In critical moments, such as this one, good performance might improve your skill or standing </u></i> As you crash through the now panicking archers, you manage to drive through two of them, almost at the same time, and reach the line of blades from the swordsmen, you realize you've the opportunity to do three things, and you don't have time to consider them thoroughly: <span id ="choice1">\ <<linkappend "Go Left ">> <<remove "#choice2">> <<remove "#choice3">> <<include "Spear">> <</linkappend>> </span>\ <span id ="choice2">\ <<linkappend "Go Straight">> <<remove "#choice1">> <<remove "#choice3">> <<include "Sword">> <</linkappend>> </span>\ <span id ="choice3">\ <<linkappend "Go Right">> <<remove "#choice1">> <<remove "#choice2">> <<include "Cut">> <</linkappend>> </span>\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> That's it. Holy shit, that was scary.<<set $Morale++>> You can't believe you not only survived all that, but actually came out victorious. The Black bile which is now built up in your throat, scares you almost as much as the thought of this first battle scared you. You feel like you're choking, your throat parched, you feel as if some poisonous liquid replaced your saliva. You get your waterskin and chug it all down, as you hear from behind you: "''Boy!''" You turn in a panic, one hand at your belt, ready to unsheathe, when you realize it's only Lord Borva. Seems he's been talking to the nobles, seeing how everyone is adjusting. Knyaz Borva:"What did you do, boy?", he says, inquisitively. You tell him of how you had\ <<if $AmbushC eq 1>>\ No success. You got to the commander, but he escaped. Knyaz Borva:"Well still that's good, boy. You ought to pay attention to your enemy's head at all times. In the case of an army, that is the commander." Knyaz Borva:"Perhaps for next time, you should train and make sure nobody knows of your failure today. You don't wanna get a reputation as a continuous failure." <<set $Fame to 1>>\ <</if>>\ \ <<if $AmbushC eq 2>>\ kept the commander busy. You got through to the enemy with a couple of dozen men. Knyaz Borva:"Good work, boy. You ought to be careful. Commanders are often surrounded by the best of the best. We wouldn't wanna lose you." <<set $Fame to 1>>\ <</if>>\ \ <<if $AmbushC eq 3>>\ broke through to the commander and defeated him. Knyaz Borva:"Splendid work, lad. I'm sure you'll get a fine ransom for him" You look at him surprised. Ransom? Knyaz Borva:"That's right, no worries. I'll take care of the whole ransom process, since you probably don't have the proper mechanisms in place. I'll make sure you get the lion's share, though. We need good men, and we need to give them incentive for being good." <<set $Fame to 1>>\ <<set $Command to 1>>\ <<else>> \ almost gotten the commander, but he was too well defended. The Knyaz defers to your say, but is clearly unconvinced. Regardless, he does seem somewhat happy you took the initiative. He offers you a quick congratulations and walks off. <<set $Command++>>\ <</if>>\ You can't believe you impressed the Knyaz.<<if $AmbushC eq 3>> And you'll get a whole bunch of money too. Not like your $mcTitley doesn't need it.<</if>> That was terrifying. Disgusting black bile has built up in your throat instead of saliva, and you feel tired, now that the adrenaline has worn off. You move around a bit, unsure of what you're supposed to do, as the only thing you see from the rest of the Lancers is the same blind moving around. The Knyaz yells an order for everyone to steadily draw back to the main Army host. You join up in a rough 2-man line of Lancers. You spot what you think is $nickKr ahead of you, so you swap spots with his silent partner. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ You think for a second what to say, but you see him as hunched down as everyone else. Seems adrenaline is the only thing that kept all of you up. You decide to skip the pleasantries and utter: $mcNick:"How are you doing, $nickKr?" He just tilts his head to the left a bit to hear you. After a couple of seconds, he seems to have found the energy to respond. $nickKr:"...Tired, I guess." $nickKr:"Wicked stuff that was, eh $mcNick?" $mcNick:"Heheh, yeah. Feels weird to kill." $nickKr:"Feels right to me. Though my father ''is'' Wojewoda." $mcNick:"I just can't believe you were nervous earlier." You continue to keep up appearances. $nickKr:"Well, we can't all be fearless Death-dealers like yourself, $mcNick." He seems to have grown a ''lot'' more confident than you. You continue shooting the shit until you're back. The moment you get done with all you need to do, like grooming your horse, checking and cleaning your equipment, replacing what you need, you get to your tent which has generously been set up for you by the men who didn't get to fight gloriously. You drop down on the cot and fall asleep easily, letting your exhaustion overtake you. [[Rest for the night|SleepAfterAmbush]] </center> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

<center> You have no fear as you dream, dream about a flying horse, your burning lance piercing through rows of enemies for the Almighty. Your arm is Victory, and your mount is Freedom. The lands under you are filled to the brim with people wearing smiles as they work the fields, produce the most beautiful works of art, in weaponry and decoration. The skies themselves seem to shine with exuberance as they illuminate your realm, only periodically tearing up from the joy at your success, thereby wetting the lands and filling it with new life. <<set $Morale++>> You wake up slightly startled. What the fuck was that dream? You suppose it makes sense, considering what happened yesterday. A new vigour fills your mind, you find yourself eager to reach new heights,\ to fight for your $mcTitley and it's future. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ The fight yesterday was short and impactful. The army of Höll has been decimated, and you're sure that Tomit will be undermanned severely. You heard some men yesterday note that about a third of the Höll army has been captured in your ambush.<<if $AmbushC > 1>> And Hrabia Moroz (as you've learned is his name). <</if>> You find their tactical blunder to be perplexing, to say the least. They noticed a small army approaching from the\ north east, with some cavalry attached to it, and they send only footmen? Why did they think this to be a good idea? You suppose Swiatla ''is'' known to be a heavy cavalry focused realm, so them sending a lot of\ spearmen makes sense, but ''no'' horsemen? Perhaps Höll being a mostly mountainous region is the reason for that... Yeah, yeah that makes sense. The Vizierlik is also largely mountainous, at least in it's southern\ regions, where some of it's older lands lay. The valleys it conquered are exactly that, conquered, not the region it's dominant nation originates from. On top of that, Höll is probably too poor to equip very good and very large amounts of cavalry, and considering they've decided that ''you'' are the easier target rather than Faiz,\ equipping more spearmen rather than horsemen makes sense. Heh, what a bunch of idiots, that means they just lost a whole bunch of their best men. <<if $AmbushC > 1>> And a fairly important Commander and Noble. <</if>> Your contemplations eventually end, and you get back to the Army's march. [[Onwards|BeforeSiege]] </center>

<center> <video src="images/BB/misc/march.webm" autoplay loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\ The army march has slowed down significantly. You'd easily made it just about near Tomit in 4 days of marching (excluding the time you spent camped on the Gora). It has taken you three additional days to get to Tomit now that \ the main Host has both the prisoners to deal with, as well as the army which had baited the former prisoners into the ambush which made them such. You've since run into Gareth among the busybody sergeants of the army camp. He told you of how he was tasked with joining the light cavalry which was sent to accompany the baiting army. Before your Lance units arrived, they thought they were done for. The tiny army which had been used as bait was deliberately formed to be clearly smaller and weaker than the Hollik army. They had a honorable spearwall, through which Gareth and the other Horsemen couldn't break through, for obvious reasons, they couldn't flank because of the forest, and the Swiatlan infantry was clearly losing by the time you arrived. He mentioned a lot of hurrahs and yelling having taken place at your timely arrival, but you don't remember hearing anything, almost like you were in different battles altogether. Must've been so-called tunnel vision. You almost don't even remember the friendlies, which had been to your left, during the initial impact. If someone asked you to name a single color on any one of those friendlies, you probably couldn't conjure up an image of it. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ <img src="images/BB/misc/Tomit.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="right"> You contemplate these peculiarities for a while, lost in thought so much you don't even notice approaching the city. This bastion of elegance, wealth and the warrior spirit of mountainous Höll. The attack on Swiatla happened just as summer was ending and seeing Tomit surrounded in this thick fog, hugging it almost as if to protect it from the wrath which you, the Swiatlans, are coming to unleash on it's streets. You don't expect the Holliks to surrender, even with the destruction which you have wrought upon their army thus far. The only way for them to hope for some kind of victory against you in the coming siege is if they were to have many more troops in the city than remained after the Ambush. Luckily, Faiz was there to provide said troops. You don't look forward to the next few months. If you are to stay here, outside, waiting for the city to starve during this siege, while you know that is going to have high chances of success, you also note that it's likely going to be a horribly cold time, for you. Autumn has just started and it's already freezing.<<if $AmbushC > 0>> Luckily, Knyaz Borva commended you for your actions in capturing Commander Moroz and you've received a new rank:Lieutenant.<<set $rank to "Lieutenant">><</if>> [[Approach the city|SiegeEnsues]] </center>

<center> You approach the city, and set up camp, far enough away for enemy marksmen to be useless against you. You walk around after setting up your own tent, having been too impatient to wait for a sergeant to do it for you. You decide that the lack of a personal assistant is starting to really annoy you, so you resolve to find a reason to get one. You step out into the chaos of a forming camp and walk to the Upper Nobility section, when you spot Knyaz Borva's tent, with him in front, and realize that he certainly must be high-ranking enough to grant you your wish. You walk up to him and ask, with only the slightest shakiness in your voice: $mcNick:"Knyaz Borva?" <<if $AmbushC !=-1>>\ Knyaz Borva:"Yes lad? What can I do for you?" he has his usual merry grin. $mcNick:"My sergeant, Gareth, was made to join the peasantry awhile ago, and I'm left without personal assistants. Do you think I might be able to gather one, regardless?" <<if $AmbushC >1>>He smiles and pats you on the shoulder:"What kinda Lord has no assistants?"<</if>> Knyaz Borva:"Of course, lad, you never should've let this go on for so long in the first place." $mcNick:"Thank you very much." <<if $AmbushC >1>>Knyaz Borva:"My pleasure."<</if>> <<else>> Spotting you, he immediately makes an unhappy grin. Knyaz Borva:"What?!" This almost makes you change your mind, but you resign yourself to whatever fate may follow and ask nonetheless. $mcNick:"My sergeant has been assigned to the army, which has left me without assistants. May I recall him, Lord Knyaz?" You try to flatter him. Knyaz Borva:"Whatever, just don't fuck anything up." <</if>> Now that you have permission, regardless of whether it was given enthusiastically or not, you head to the trenches where you're sure Gareth is to be found. Descending down, you spot him carrying a crate of weapons. You approach and tell him about your success in reuniting the two of you<<if $AmbushC !=-1>>, as well as regaling him again with your fighting prowess<</if>>: $mcNick:"Gareth, you've been transferred to my service once again." Gareth visibly gets excited, but quickly remembers his place and says:"Of course, my Lord." With a big smile. <img src="images/BB/misc/sitting.jpeg" width=300 height = 250 align="left"> The two of you head up to the part of the hill, where your tent is at, sit down next to each other and observe the camp for a while. Gareth:"So what's next?" You think for a second, then say... $mcNick:"A siege, it looks like. I don't see any reason to rush at the city.<<if $rank eq "Lieutenant">> Plus I heard it from Borva.<</if>>" Gareth:"THE Borva? What, he talks to you?" Gareth mocks. $mcNick:"We're best friends now. See what happened, cause you left for a couple of days?" Gareth:"Motherfucker took my place." $mcNick:"Yeah... but really, we ain't all that great. Anyway, pay attention to that moat, we ain't rushing through that. I didn't see what the castle is like from the other sides, but this is gonna be a tough piece of work." Gareth:"Yeah... A siege it is then. So does this mean I'm gonna be sleeping here again?" You burst out laughing:"What, did you miss me, you fag?" Gareth:"Well no... just the lads down there are always loud, and you have to sleep outside, sometimes, and it's getting real cold." $mcNick:"Yeah, you're gonna sleep up here. Though if you don't behave, I'm gonna send you down again." Gareth:"Hah, then who's gonna oil your sword?" $mcNick:"Oil my sword? You really ''are'' learning some gay shit down there?" Gareth's turn to laugh:"Hahahahaha, good one, mate... good one." $mcNick:"Alright, I'm a tad bit cold so let's get to work a bit. Sitting around won't help." <<if $rank eq "Lieutenant">>[[Siege Ensues|SiegeA]] <<else>>[[Siege Ensues|SiegeB]]<</if>> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> <<set $GarethRe to 0>> A month and a half later, your siege, now in the middle of winter, places high importance on finally ending the wait-around and taking the city. Your personal feelings on the matter are entirely founded on the fact of the biting cold which has ruined your everyday experience for the last few weeks, the cold which has only really increased in potency, seeing as how you've graduated from the autumn winds and chill to the blanket of frost which has consumed all around you. <<if $gold > 40 >>\<<set $gold-=30>> You've had trouble with the cold for a while, and decided to invest some money into your survival. You've bought a new tent, some firewood, and new clothes. You've also replaced the holes in your armor, brigandine and shield, which have degraded during your days spent in and with these items. <<else>> You've had trouble with the cold for quite a while now, and today you feel the frostbite more than ever, your fingers are cold, too cold to move, your skin dares not to move, for fear of letting the cold in even further, your very bones feel chilled and you've even earned yourself a cut on the cheek from the frost-ridden winds wailing daily. If only you had the reserves to improve your situation, but unfortunately you don't and so your body suffers. <<set $Martial-->> <</if>><<set $KatKiss to false>> <<if $lkrel>=5>><<include "KatSiege">><</if>> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ <img src="images/BB/misc/nightcamp.webp" width=500 height = 350 align="right"> You've made it a nightly habit to take a walk around the outskirts of the camp, watching for deserters, some new piece of information about Tomit, and most importantly, infiltrators or brigands. That last one is unlikely, but one can never be too careful. Walking around this evening, you get to thinking. The bombardment has yielded many results. The walls of Tomit on this side of the city are down, lying in their own rubble. The Holliks have erected a weak wooden defense, or rather a wall, yet both they and you know that will be destroyed within two shots of cannon the moment your army decides to attack. This is just meant to keep their and your own soldiers from facing each other before necessary. Several small contingents of their men, sent out to repair the wall, have surrendered since, all of them Holliks, native to this land, and all of them have given you information about the city's defenses in some regard. What you've managed to piece together is that they felt misaligned, angry even with their Lords, or some of them at least, for allying with the Faizis. They seem to feel that you, being fellow Swialeni, are the natural ally and even protector to a certain degree. This is not an unpopular opinion even among their Nobility. They are a small realm, and so they tend to stick together no matter what, which is why the Grand Prince has managed to push through his desire to align with the Great Vizierlik even though there is not at all a small faction of Nobles who are firmly against it. It speaks to the very current of thought in Höll that they are still able to voice their discomfort with the direction of their Principality, considering this historically relevant uniformity in their society. Lady Katherine has not been of any use concerning information about the military aspect of this siege, but you've found her information about her brother, and general state politics of her country to be enlightening enough that you were able to conclude all of these peculiarities. As you're about to return to your tent, you run into $nickKr. $nickKr:"Good evening, $mcNick. Long time no talk." $mcNick:"Good evening indeed. How are you doing?" $nickKr:"I'm alright, the Wojewoda sent me to get someone I trust." $mcNick:"Oh?" $mcNick:"Are you looking for someone? Should I send for someone?" You say with a cheeky smile... $nickKr:"Hahaha, no, I trust ''you''. Go see my father, please." $mcNick:"Sure." You get walking immediately, thinking about $nickKr on the way. Ever since that charge at the beginning of the campaign, he has seemed to stay away from not just you, but everyone. Killing is tough business after all, and everyone deals with it in their own way. $nickKr has since grown as a man, and as a Noble, you've noticed him walk with more assuredness in his step, panic less at sudden orders, scarce though they may be in a siege. His father has even trusted him to join foragin runs from time to time, which surprised absolutely everyone. The scared baby-faced Noble is gone, and his place has been taken up by a slightly too proud Noble. Not that that is all that rare, honestly. You walk up to the Wojewoda's tent, seeing him inside. <img src="images/BB/misc/Wojewoda.webp" align="center"> Wojewoda:"''Good evening, $mcNick. I presume my son sent you...''" He says with a firm, but tired voice. The Wojewoda continues:"I'll be brief. You'll need rest, because tomorrow morning we will attack Tomit. It's getting too cold out here." Wojewoda:"You're here because I have a special task for ''you''. My son is here, as you know, and is going to be part of the fighting tomorrow, and in the future. I need someone to make sure he is safe." $mcNick:"Of course, Lord." Wojewoda:"I don't want you to be his personal bodyguard at all times, I'm already taking care of that. But he's going to be assigned to you or vice versa every time either one of you are sent to a mission." Wojewoda:"He is my only child and my only son. I can't lose him, I'm sure you understand that. Can I count on you to keep my son and legacy safe?" $mcNick:"''Absolutely.''" Wojewoda:"Good. Dismissed." He says and gets back to what you assume are his war plans. $mcNick:"Good night, Wojewoda." Wojewoda looks up from his papers and smiles:"Good night, $mcTitle. And good luck." You head off to sleep, immediately noticing a return of the dread of battle. The shiver returns to your breath, even though you don't speak, except to tell Gareth good night. The black haze returns to your vision, to your brain, to your very soul. You don't panic intelligibly, as you did before, feeling that your experience has numbed you to fear at least a little bit. You do feel your spirit panic, however, your very being suddenly encapsulated in chains, urging you to run, to save yourself and live to see another day.<<if $Morale < 0>>\ You start to think about all the training you could've done, all the time you've wasted for these past couple of weeks, when you could've been swinging at fellow soldiers and vice versa. You then remember that training tires you, and all that would've accomplished is getting you to the fight less ready for it, which means your death is certain. <<else>> But you don't let that trouble you. You steel your mind and think about better things.<<if $KatKiss>> Like Kat and her wonderful lips.<</if>><</if>> You wake, suddenly, not realizing immediately that it's already morning, get up and dress. You know the siege is about to end, or at least you hope it will, if it continues that means this attack is going to be unsuccessful. You gear up and walk out of your tent, colder than usual. Usually you wear more "armor" pieces than you're supposed to, to stave off the cold, but today you're gonna need mobility rather than warmth, since you're going to battle. You walk out to a camp already deep in preparation, the entire horde of men buzzing with activity. You glance at the wooden shacks erected at the former site of the wall, except you don't, because it seems the cannons have taken them down. You've gotten used to the beating of the cannons, the reverberations through the ground so much that you don't even wake up from them anymore. Seeing that Gareth's tent is empty, you make one last prayer to save your soul should something go awry, and walk down. Today, your role is that of a simple warrior, a Man-at-Arms to be specific. The fight will be contained enough that there will be very little commanding and mobile actions, but at least you don't have to be part of the brute force fist which will have to break through the bridge and into the city. You take your place among the nobles just off to the side on your half of the land separated by the moat and wait for the order to come. The heat of this mass of men all in one place is one comfort at least. Take that, winter. [[Wait|BloodHot]] </center> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

<center><img src="images/BB/misc/Battle.webp" align="center"> The order comes, yet you are calm, and grateful for it. You're in formation, along with the rest of the Nobles. Your task today will likely be a minimal one, you now realize. The army defending this city is smaller and weaker, having been decimated by both the Ambush a while ago, and certainly the siege and it's effects. They haven't had any new food or timber to defend themselves from starvation or the cold. On top of that, the Faiz garrison which has reinforced the army of Höll inside the city is probably an unwelcome one, and any food they took up was probably seen as another injustice committed against the people of Höll. All that said, the moment the bridge is crossed, you will likely get an early and easy victory, possibly without ever unsheathing your own weapon. During your contemplations, the Militiamen and other peasant-warriors have broken through, and you watch as this compressed mass of men walk along the bridge like one, giant body made of many smaller ones. That was much quicker than expected. The Meatball, which is what you call the mess of bodies, is quickly depleting on the bridge and gradually spilling over into the city. You hear an order come from the Wojewoda himself:"Mount up!", and realize you're going to do something much worse to the defenders than you thought. Now that the Meatball has left the bridge relatively empty, your mounts are going to be able to cross much more easily, and you will have all the momentum needed to slaughter the defenders. Your formation scatters, as everyone goes to their horses, having only been prepared for an infantry assault. You mount up, hearing someone shout that the order is to enter the city as quick as possible, no waiting for formation. You have no time to get your Lances, not that they would be of much use, anyway. They're best used in open quarters, without obstacles surrounding you to mess up any potential charges. You will find no such open field inside this city. You notice $nickKr just behind you as you head into the city, and realize he's probably aware of your task, and has no desire to make it harder on you. You head forward, having caught up to the Meatball. The Meatball is still in formation and is fighting another Meatball on the side opposing you, moving forward. The enemy Meatball is much smaller, which you can see from your slightly better vantage point, on top of a horse. The enemy Meatball moves backwards further and further, quickly losing ground to yours. More quickly than it is ''actually'' losing it. You hear behind you a great crash and think to look back, but decide not to leave yourself vulnerable. You'll count on $nickKr at least, as well as whoever else is back there to keep you safe. That is the meaning of brothers-in-arms after all. $nickKr:"$mcNick!" You hear from behind. You turn and see about two dozen Nobles and cavalry in the city and look over the bridge at the approach to the city, to see the men over there, stopped. Why have they not crossed? $nickKr:"It's broken. It's a trap!" He says and you approach the broken walls to look a bit better. It seems the bridge has been destroyed, leaving you, the few dozen Cavalrymen and your giant Meatball trapped in the city. <<set $TomitSplit to 0>><<set $TomitMen to 50>> You turn around, about to give the Meatball an order, when you notice they've advanced even further, being now in the middle of what looks to be a square. You gather your cavalrymen with a twirl of your sword and order a canter forwards. You are about halfway to the Meatball when the air and ground reverberate with thunderous tremors, and your Meatball loses a bunch of mass on it's sides. You continue onwards, afraid of panicking. You advance only slightly forward and witness another repeat of thunder, followed by your Meatball losing more men. What the ''fuck'' is going on? You keep advancing, now speeding up a bit, and notice the streets to the left and right of your Meatball are occupied by the one strength the Great Vizierlik has, which is units armed with small equivalents of the cannons you used to destroy the walls of this city. They are muskets, full of gunpowder, propelling small lead balls at this very easy to hit, or rather hard to miss, mass of meat, the only thing keeping your attack and presence in this city alive. To the left is about two dozen men, in two lines of a dozen, protected by militia who have practically nothing but pikes, and to the right you see even more of the same, except it's heavily armed men with Greatswords. Clearly veterans. <<if $AmbuchC < 0 >><<linkappend "Go left">> No, you learned your mistakes.<</linkappend>><</if>> [[Go Right|GSwords]] <<if $Command > 1>>[[Split your troops to accomplish more|GSwords][$TomitSplit to 1]]<</if>> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<center> DAYS WITH ANETTE CAN'T SPEAK LANGUAGE \ \ \ \ \ \ \ ANETTE VISIBLY CONFLICTED, SCARED AND AWAY FROM HOME. [[ANETTE takes matters into her own hands|AnetteBJ1]] </center>

<center> SCENE \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ END SCENE [[CONTINUE|EOV]] </center>

<center> Thanks for playing The Black Baron. This is a game made by [[https://www.patreon.com/user?u=71217424<-Colossal Project Productions]] If you liked this game, you have 3 options of supporting it's development: <h1>1) Financially</h1> Namely on the Link above. <h1>1) Spreading the word</h1> Sharing the game, your thoughts on it, and telling others about it. <h1>1) Sharing Feedback</h1> Providing Feedback to us on Patreon. <h2>Have a Great Day.</h2> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ </center>

<<linkappend "Train>> Train self <<set $Martial++>> <</linkappend>>

<span id ="choice1"> <<linkappend $choice1>> <<remove "#choice2">> $sChoice1 <</linkappend>> </span> <span id ="choice2"> <<linkappend $choice2>> <<remove "#choice1">> $sChoice2 <</linkappend>> </span>

<span id ="choice1"> <<linkappend $choice1>> <<remove "#choice2">> <<remove "#choice3">> $sChoice1 <</linkappend>> </span> <span id ="choice2"> <<linkappend $choice2>> <<remove "#choice1">> <<remove "#choice3">> $sChoice2 <</linkappend>> </span> <span id ="choice3"> <<linkappend $choice3>> <<remove "#choice1">> <<remove "#choice2">> $sChoice3 <</linkappend>> </span>

<body style="background-color:red;color:red"> <center> \ \ \ \ \ \ Last night, before you left the party scared to death, you remember the announcement that today would be the start of the advance. The dreaded advance towards battle, which had chilled your bones, has finally come. You've no friends here, except maybe $nickKr, your men from $mcRealm are somewhere among the rabble, Gareth is gone with them as well... you're terrified to the bone, alone and far from home. Nothing you do can make you feel better, so you try to distract yourself with the preparations. You put your armor on, groom your horse for a bit, dunk your head in some cold water, and by the time you're done you're just as nervous, but at least some time has passed, you're more awake, more capable of suppressing your fear, hence more in control of yourself. You find out that, due to not having your personal sergeant, the King has employed a bunch of carriages to carry the chests of the supplies of yourself and the rest of the nobility. Convenient. You stuff your chest with items your horse would otherwise carry that you don't need with you at all times, hand it to a lad who then stacks it among the other crates in one of the carriages. <img src="images/BB/misc/Convoy.webp" width=350 height = 300 align="left"> On the move, you speak with the other nobles, one of whom immediately susses out your nervous nature. A big gentleman, long hair to his shoulders, and a big bushy beard grace his head. Lord Borva:"No worries, lad. Wolner's gonna fuck them up. Take my word, as Knyaz of Rathina." Oh Lord <i>Almighty</i>, how many powerful men are gonna just casually talk to you as if you're someone important. The Knyaz of Rathina? The Kingdom of Swiatla, which is a union of House Wist and House Borva, being Swiatlan and Rathine respectively. You're talking to the House head of the dynasty that ruled over the Kingdom of Rathina until recently, to one of the King's most important relatives? Your head goes light for a second, and you mutter out a weak thank you as you notice Borva already launching into conversation. Knyaz Borva:"When my father allowed his sister to marry the Krol, and pledged allegiance to the House, he did it to stop the civil war, lad. I don't know what you lived through, I presume you're too young to have felt the effects of that... Although I suppose we all feel it's effects in a sense, like that little $mcTitley to the north of here." Knyaz Borva:"What I'm trying to say is, war IS hell, and you're right to fear it. But it's also our creed. If we don't wreck the Holliks now, and then the Vizierlik, the people we know and love are going to be that much weaker against the enemy in the future. We must be united. That's why I'm here, and I've got no fuckin' reason to be here. Rathina is relatively far and away to the East, Swiatlans aren't even my people, or our people altogether. But we do have a lot of things in common, the Almighty being one of them, though you weirdos worship in a strange way. If I'm not going to fight for this Kingdom, and it's people, then who is? Who is, son?" Through this jumbled up sentiment he's trying to share, you think you get the gist. Your sacrifice to this war, as well as his family's sacrifice for the safety of the entire Kingdom and all of it's peoples, are in line with the Holy Script, even if we worship it in different ways. If you go to battle and come away unscathed, things are fine and you've protected your people, hopefully even enriched your $mcTitley. And if you go to battle and die, then you've taken on the injustices of this world as well as you possibly could've, and are to join the Saints and the Heavens.<<if $Piety eq 0>><<set $Piety++>> It's a basic principle, but one you needed reminding of, it seems. <</if>> Filled with a new resolve, you say with a steady voice:"I will fight, Lord Borva. I have no choice." Knyaz Borva:"Hehehehe, that's good. Though, you could choose to run away, I've seen it happen." $mcNick:"Then my father's $mcTitley would be ruined for certain." Knyaz Borva:"Which one is that? Oh, are you from $mcRealm? Hah, then you really have no choice. Well, to victory or death for you it is then." <<if $Piety < 2 >><<set $Morale++>> You ride on, resolute. Afraid of what happens to your $mcTitley if you fail, perhaps, because worrying for others is better than for yourself, as you've just been reminded. But regardless, you're back to your stoic self, and that feels surprisingly relieving. <<else>><<set $Morale to 0>> You realize that your plight is exactly that which is described in the Holy Script. So you lift your head up towards the Heavens, and ride on, calmly, stoically and ready for the unjust burdens of this world to be thrown at you and find themselves handled not with rage, but with loving care.<</if>>\ Knyaz Borva:"By the way, the first battle will be an easy one, that I can promise you." $mcNick:"How do you know?" Knyaz Borva:"Some horsemen left yesterday, to meet up with the nobles who haven't arrived yet. And their levies, that is. They are going to approach Tomit from the north east and raid and fight for a bit. ''BUT'', they will never get to Tomit. They're only going to do all of this to trick the Holliks into thinking that's the entire army, and the Kingdom is unprepared for a major war. We'll see if they take the bait." So that's why they left before you. That's why the nobles have been "dragging their feet" coming to the camp. All of it makes sense now. And even though Borva hasn't told you the entire plan, you can already piece it together. Your army, which is without a doubt massive enough to take even the Vizierlik's army in a fair fight, is going to move south towards Tomit for about two days. The Baiting Army, approaching quickly, from their northeast, will bait them out from the city and it's fortifications and by the time you're around the city, whatever pursuing force they end up sending, it will be trapped between the Bait Army and this war group, which is practically all the King's Men. At least all the fighting ones. You still don't know what this is going to look like, you know nothing of the battle that shall come, but at least now you see the full intelligence of the Wojewoda at display here. It will be another slaughter. More importantly, it will be an easy first fight for you. Phew. [[A couple of days later...|SlyAmbush]] </center> </body>

<<set $Command-->><<set $Fame-->><<set $Morale-->> <img src="images/BB/misc/Spearwall.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> The moment you turn to the left and realize what you've done, you regret it. The one thing that every single noble knows, the one thing every single cavalry man knows, the one thing that every spearman knows, is that spears pierce horses, spears pierce horsemen. You cut through more marksmen, and some of the swordsmen as well, but the moment you reach the wall of spears which has already formed, the completely expected thing happens. You get a torn up brigandine, the coat of protection your mount has also gets torn up, you get banged up like a cunt, and you finally come out on the other side. Scathed, but alive, hopefully. If you had gone into this kind of charge immediately upon coming out of the forest lines, perhaps you could've had much more success, but since the enemy heard you before you charged out of the woods, the spearmen (who seem to be well trained) had ample opportunity to instruct their second line to raise a shieldwall and thereby prevent you from charging at them effectively. Turning your head, you notice a couple of others followed you, and one noble has even been stuck among the spearmen, where he is pierced and cut down promptly, for his foolish trust in you. Having learned from your mistakes, you turn widely and avoid the spears of both friendly and enemy troops. Yet, by the time you reach the Lancers again, the battle has mostly [[concluded.|FirstBattleS]]

<<set $AmbushC to 0>> The men in front of you panic slightly, but still try to injure you and your fellow Lancers, futile as that may be. You look ahead of you, as you continue breaking through, paying attention not to slow down and stop in between the columns of swords. You see in the distance, among those horsemen, someone you assume to be in charge. Looks armored enough to assume that is the case. Plus his horse is protected by armor too, so it's definitely someone important. You glance behind you and see that, though the main body of your cavalry formation seems to have broken off, or rather you have broken off from them by not going to the right, there is a sizable contingent of about two dozen who followed you, whether by accident or on purpose. You might be able to reach the enemy commander with your fellow Lancers.<<if $Command > 0>> In fact, you're certain you could reach them, though who knows what may happen once you get there.<</if>> \ <span id ="Fortune"> <<linkappend "Fortune favors the Bold">> <<remove "#Turn">> You think for a second, then decide to risk it. After all, your $mcTitley needs renown, and you as it's inheritor. Being in the gap between the two sword columns, you use this moment and space to rally the men behind you, raising your lance and yelling out:<p style="color:Darkgray;">"''Follow me, men! Charge!!''"</p> You don't quite have the gusto in your voice, like that of big-bellied Lord Borva, but you get the job done, as they quickly canter into a new, smaller wedge behind you. You charge through the second column of blades with some difficulty, but you do get through. You swim and wade easily through the marksmen and are now upon the light cavalry, about a third of whom you manage to eradicate, surprisingly easily. A couple of your horses and theirs get injured, as the cavalry is protected by a few spearmen. You realize this commander will either get trapped here by you and your men somehow, <<if $Command < 1>>(or you will get trapped by them)<</if>> or you will have to let them escape. This man is a commander, and clearly skilled in military affairs, and is without a doubt surrounded by the most well-trained troops he could muster. You, on the other hand have better equipped and more men, but men who have never fought real battles. Do you risk it and press the attack or not? <<if $Command > 0 >> <span id ="press"> <<linkappend "Press the attack">><<remove "#Letgo">> You are the $mcTitle of $mcRealm, $mcName Czarny, and you will not ''falter!'' You ride around the men a couple more times, order your squad to focus on the cavalry which hasn't managed to get behind the \ spearguards. Not that there are enough for the cavalry ''and'' the commander anyway. Quickly, they are dispatched. Now, on to the spearmen. You are lucky you have more men with you than they, as otherwise they would easily have been able to join up with the rest of the army,\ had your fellow Lancers not been in the way. You dismount alongside about a dozen others, instructing the rest to guard your horses, and be ready to gallop after the noble should he escape. You link up again with the rest of the dismounted nobles, and prepare to engage the spears. <p style="color:white;background-color:red">BATTLE SYSTEM UNDER CONSTRUCTION, WILL DEFAULT TO SKILL CHECK FOR NOW!</p> <<if $Martial < 1>> <<linkappend "You are unable to crack them">> <<set $AmbushC to 1>> While fighting, you start to think back to the times when you really should've trained, but didn't feel like it. You're definitely regretting that laziness, as you quickly become tired, unused to the weight of your sword and shield. It is only the fact that you wear a brigandine instead of plate that prevents you from becoming so tired you get hammered by these enemies. The men at your side notice this, as well as in front of you, and you all are pushed back, at which point the commander promptly escapes. You feel ashamed, though the men around you feel like they have just been involved in a flash of heroism, for which they feel you are responsible. You hope you've not messed up things too badly with this stunt. Suppose you're about to [[find out.|FirstBattle]]<</linkappend>><</if>> <img src="images/BB/misc/Spearguards.webp" width=350 height = 250 align="center"> <<if $Martial eq 1>> <<linkappend "You lose continuously, but draw their attention">> <<set $AmbushC to 2>>\ You score some early victories, but clearly these men are more veteran and more practised than yourself, and you've yet to reach the commander behind them. Still, you are able to keep the pressure on them, and soon enough the entire battle between your two armies which you have managed to ignore while performing this stunt is concluded, at which point the commander has no choice but to surrender alongside his men. You only hope your charge and subsequent escapade haven't impeded the broader effort. You take a [[breath|FirstBattle]] to calm your scared, adrenaline consumed heart. <</linkappend>><</if>>\ \ <<if $Martial >= 2>> <<linkappend "You quickly dispatch the spearmen">> <<set $AmbushC to 3>> The spearmen guarding this commander are clearly somewhat experienced, though you quickly adapt to their tendencies and dispatch them, at which point the commander tries to flee to your left, but his horse is tangled up, that is, attacked by one of your men, so he dismounts to try and run. Instead, you move in his path, and swipe at him, at which point he realizes there is no running. Yet, true to his military ways, he refuses to surrender, and instead draws his sword, rests the blade on his shield and clearly offers you a challenge. <i>''This is where the battle would ensue, but that is under construction''</i> Your fight against him is hard, but he makes mistake after mistake and finally you manage to take him down. He lies, not dead, but closer to it than he was before he met ''you'', and you feel quite happy with your success. The fight outside of this little adventure of yours has also concluded, it seems, with a decisive victory on your side. You instruct one of the other nobles to carry the commander to get medical assistance, after all you're not savages... while you take some time to [[recuperate|FirstBattle]] <</linkappend>><</if>> <</linkappend>></span> <span id ="Letgo"> <<linkappend "Let him go">> <<remove "#press">> You decide to let him go, feeling completely unprepared and retreat back to Borva's squad right after he leaves. At the point of your arrival, you realize the fight has ended, and you've won your first [[victory|FirstBattle]]<</linkappend>> </span> <<else>> <<linkappend "Let him go">> You decide to let him go, feeling completely unprepared and retreat back to Borva's squad right after he leaves. At the point of your arrival, you realize the fight has ended, and you've won your first [[victory|FirstBattle]]<</linkappend>> <</if>> <</linkappend>> </span> \ <span id ="Turn"> <<linkappend "Don't risk it, turn back">> <<remove "#Fortune">> You try to stop, but suddenly realize that it's impossible and you end up causing a kerfuffle among the contingent that follows you. You would be in danger, but luckily your shitty tactics have confused the enemy as well, so you quickly regroup and ride back to the main body of the Lancers. On your way there, you cut and pierce almost half a dozen more men, and you see the rest of the Lancers easily doing much better than you themselves. This can't last long. Quickly enough, the enemy army gives way and your victory stands assured now. The spearmen of Höll are the last ones to give up, some of them trying to flee, but once a few are killed mercilessly by your cavalry, the majority of them see the writing on the wall and give themselves up. That's your [[first battle...|FirstBattle]] <</linkappend>> </span>

You turn your head right to see that pretty much the entire Lancer formation you're with is turning to the right, so you follow suit. You, being on the left wing, must continue charging forwards and turn at a slightly slower rate. You do so, and end up charging right through the middle of the two columns of swordsmen. Luckily, you're in formation, right alongside your fellow Lancers, whose stalward movements to both the left and right of you, not only disrupt, but decimate enemy lines enough that the very column to your right stops appearing. It is now just a mass of men with swords and shields, fighting for their lives, seeing as how the marksmen have been swallowed up by your death-worshipping charge before them. You notice this very same panic to your left as well. The men start breaking, dropping their weapons, and routing from the battlefield. <<set _src="images/BB"+_src>> <video src="images/BB/misc/Charge.webm" height=_height width=_width autoplay loop > Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> A little further in front of you, about a hundred paces away, you notice cavalry, completely different looking from yours, fleeing away rapidly. The men have broken, the lines are destroyed, the enemy is defeated. Today, victory is yours. <<set $Morale++>> A little more fighting is required, you don't even put all your mind to it, to drive the point home to the now practically surrounded spearmen. Soon however, they break and the spearmen too are captured, most of them too afraid to flee cause of you Lancers. <<linkreplace "Battle over">> <<include FirstBattleC>> <</linkreplace>>

<center><<set $AmbushC to -1>> As you finally reach the Lancer formation, you see it gradually lose cohesion and unform, at the behest of the Knyaz. The Knyaz notices you and orders you to come closer. ''Shit''. You approach with shame in your canter... Knyaz Borva:"Boy, what the fuck do they teach you over at $mcRealm?" You look down in response. Knyaz Borva:"Have you never ridden a horse before?" You don't see what else you can do other than bear the brunt of this verbal beatdown. Knyaz Borva:"What kind of Lancer rides into a shieldwall?" You keep looking down. Knyaz Borva:"Well, what kind of Lancer rides into a shieldwall?!?" $mcNick:"W-what..." Knyaz Borva:"''AN IDIOT LANCER.''" He yells out, loud enough for everyone around to hear. Knyaz Borva:"No shit yer $mcTitley is about to drown, when they make feckless idiots like ''you'' to lead them. Fuck off and try not to mess up any more lives next time you're in battle." You ride away, slowly, not even knowing where you're going, when you hear someone order everyone's return to the main Army host. On the way back, you join up next to $nickKr, who promptly rebuffs you and decides you're not worth his time. The moment you return, your duties call you, you do them as quickly as possible, you groom your horse, which you almost had killed with your foolishness, check your equipment, as if it's quality\ could compensate for the idiocy with which you have carried yourself today. You drop down to your cot at the end of the day and feel nothing but \ [[Shame.|SleepAfterAmbush]] </center>

<center> You're surprised by how easy that felt. You never left the side of your brothers-in-arms, easily cut through most everyone in your way, and completed the day victorious. You notice the Knyaz walking around, quickly checking how everyone is doing. He quickly notes yourself, sees you're fine and moves on, going to yell at a lad who almost rode into the spearmen in the middle of the charge. You feel a bit tired, but your adrenaline still carries you onwards. There is no battle going anymore, yet you still feel a bit on edge. That felt too short for your primal instincts. You hear the Knyaz yell out:"''We're moving back, boys! To camp! Form a line''" You move into the line next to $nickKr, and simply ride in silence for a while. $nickKr glances to his left, tired and says:"Good job, $mcTitle. We're still alive." You grunt in confirmation, tired now that all adrenaline has left your bloodstream. Upon returning, you conclude your tasks as quickly as possible, taking care to put the most effort into grooming your horse, she's done a lot for you today. Afterwards you smack yourself down on the cot of your tent, and resign yourself to sleep until the next day. [[Continue|SleepAfterAmbush]] </center>

<video src="images/BB/misc/march.webm" height=300 width=300 autoplay loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\

<center> <<set $gold-=10>> Now that the siege has well and truly begun, as well as autumn, you once again manage to recall all of the many horror stories you learned about from your youth to today, all of them concerning war. You remember the terrifying nature of starvation which you will inflict upon yourself, and much, much worse on the inhabitants of Tomit. The cold which they in particular will have to endure, not having the timber which you will gather from the surrounding forests. It is said that the best siege is not the kind that is concluded by the attackers taking the city in a heroic rampage against the defenders, but that of the patient invaders waiting until the city is simply a graveyard of skin and bones, hidden behind walls which they calmly and without fighting, walk into. <<set $Dread++>> About a week and a half have passed since Gareth has joined you once again, and you're very welcome for the company. Your equipment is taken care of by him, since he no longer is taken up by tasks in the peasant portion of the Army. You two talk for a bit every day, but Knyaz Borva has been sending you to lead auxiliary detachments as lieutenant to look for supplies for the besiegement, so you have had little time to waste. Your regular bouts of leadership gives you some experience in how to deal with insubordination, especially in these cold moments, when pain is easy to induce. One such day, when you are waiting for orders from the Knyaz, he tells you of a nearby Barony, whose Noble is behind the walls, probably with his troops, and you are to lead an expedition to take supplies from his Baronial palace. <<linkappend "Go to raid">> You take a dozen men, making sure Gareth is with you as well. You ride through a forest, going North West from your tent, passing by the men cutting wood for your siege, and continue to where the approximate\ location given to you by the Knyaz. A cold and somewhat barren looking part of the forest awaits you, and you can't help but shiver, more from unease at your eerie surroundings than cold. $mcNick:"Wooofh, it's cold\ out here, eh?" You say to keep up appearances. The man next to you chuckles... You don't even know his name. You spot what looks like a slightly beaten path. You have no trackers with you, and you certainly aren't that well versed in scouting, so you pick a direction and just head off further into the forest.\ Seems you picked the right direction as you come upon a paved road soon after. <img src="images/BB/misc/village.jpg" width=300 height = 250 align="left"> Half an hour later, you come upon a small, but well-looking village. If it had shittier roads, huts, and a slightly more dilapitated palace, it would look a lot like $mcRealm, only shifted around a bit. It makes you feel homesick. You shrug off the nostalgia as if it's cold and push into the center of the weirdly empty village. $mcNick:"On your guard. This place shouldn't be empty." You trot to the very center of the village, standing right next to the well. Looking around, you notice nothing happening. No movement, no sound, and no light except some candlelight from the palace. Though, similarly to your own $mcTitley, it's hard to even call it a palace, it's little more than a luxurious home, like a particularly tiny mansion. Anyhow, you decide to approach with Gareth and knock on the\ door. Pressing your ear to the door, you just barely hear some seemingly panicked whispers, and a pair of weird sounding boots approaching. You rest your hand on your sword. The door opens, and inside the doorway,\ you spot a <h style="color:Crimson;">''dangerous''</h> <<linkreplace "dangerous what?">> <img src="images/BB/misc/Maid.png" width=250 height = 475 align="left"> <h1>Lady?</h1> Unknown:"H-H-Hallö?" You look at Gareth, confused, and he returns the same gaze. $mcNick:"Hello, my Lady, what is going on here?" Unknown:"Hello... you Lords? Thank Almighty! Help!" She squeals, clutching her hands to her chest. You remember your manners:"My Lady, at your disposal is Lord $mcTitle $mcName Czarny of $mcRealm and my sergeant Gareth of $mcRealm, how may I help?" You say with a gentlemanly bow. Then you knock Gareth\ to remind him to do the same. Agatha:"Lords, I am Agatha, maid of Lady Katherine." She announces with her hand, deeper into the palace. <<linkappend "You look to her left.">> <img src="images/BB/misc/Lady.webp" width=250 height = 450 align="right" > You spot a fair young maiden, presumably Lady Katherine, who looks every bit the noble she's supposed to resemble. Silky smooth skin, as is common for your peoples, brown hair, and a rich dress adorning her\ thin, feminine curves. <<set $lkrel to 0>> Lady Katherine:"Hello, Lord $mcRealm, apologies for Agatha's poor understanding of your language. Our languages may be similar, but they still require some practise." $mcNick:"Of course, it's fine. What help do you require? You're our enemies, after all. We're not going to mess up our own campaign."\ You say stoically, one cannot forget his goal, but you notice Gareth looking at you a bit incredulous. Always the horndog. Lady Katherine:"With the withdrawal of our good Baron, my brother, and the majority of the troops, this place has been left undefended. We could not harm you even if we wished so." Lady Katherine:"On the other hand, there are brigands about who have been trying to take over this village, who we would wish much harm upon. This is what we would ask of you." A bandit group? You're sure you could take them, no matter how many they are. But would that be a good idea? You came to get whatever supplies you could, not to make sure there are more people around,\ to eat up supplies... Lady Katherine notices your thinking and offers:"We would gladly give you information for our safety." Now that sounds like a good deal. The incredibly well defended city of Tomit would surely have it's defenses pierced at least somewhat by information from one of it's ladies. [[Deal|Brigands]] [[No Deal|RaidVillage]] <</linkappend>> <</linkreplace>> <</linkappend>> </center>

<center> <<set $gold-=10>> Now that the siege has well and truly begun, as well as autumn, you once again manage to recall all of the many horror stories you learned about from your youth to today, all of them concerning war. You remember the terrifying nature of starvation which you will inflict upon yourself, and much, much worse on the inhabitants of Tomit. The cold which they in particular will have to endure, not having the timber which you will gather from the surrounding forests. It is said that the best siege is not the kind that is concluded by the attackers taking the city in a heroic rampage against the defenders, but that of the patient invaders waiting until the city is simply a graveyard of skin and bones, hidden behind walls which they calmly and without fighting, walk into. <<set $Dread++>> About a week and a half have passed since Gareth has joined you once again, and you're very welcome for the company. Your equipment is taken care of by him, since he no longer is taken up by tasks in the peasant portion of the Army. You've been having plenty of time to converse with one another, and your morale problem has been much relieved by his conversational efforts. Sometimes you feel almost as if the two of you are back in \ $mcRealm, where you don't have to fear for your life or fucking things up and someone else dies. You've always known yourself to be a sharp mind, and very socially adept. The latter obviously comes from your many interactions with travelers, but your intellect, per your father's words come from your mother.\ While you certainly understand the sentiment, he's probably underestimating the effect your teachers had on you. Their lessons were brutal, like your father's standards. The combination of these two things \ have most likely led to you developing a quick mind, and thinking outside of the box. <img src="images/BB/misc/cannon.webp" width=300 height = 250 align="left"> You've been lending your sharp mind to the engineers and their construction, or more accurately assembly of cannons. The thick walls of Tomit, alongside it's general defensive structure, left your army quite perplexed, concerned with it's next step. It was decided that cannons during the next couple of weeks would fully wreck the walls on one of the axis, through which your army would then be able to march in, rather than spreading itself thin along three different points of entry. Unfortunately, your engineering work has paid little, and \ your purse is all around 20 coins down from what you had started off with. You're about to move over to the engineers' usual spot one morning, when Knyaz Borva approaches you with two women, one of them dressed quite fine, and says. <img src="images/BB/Kat/Lady.webp" width=300 height = 420 align="right"> Knyaz Borva:"$mcNick, this is Lady Katherine, and her servant Agatha." You shake hands with them. Knyaz Borva:"Make sure they've a tent and are not bothered. Can I trust you not to f-" And then glances to his right, at Lady Katherine. "Not to mess anything up?" $mcNick:"Sure, Lord Borva." Knyaz Borva says alright, and leaves the three of you like that. The day is cold, it's wet, and you've no clue how to set up even the most shoddy of accommodations a Lady is supposed to have, even if you were back\ in $mcRealm, let alone here where everything is scant. You see no choice in front of you but to acquiesce and admit you need her instruction on what she needs. <<set $lkrel to 0>> Lady Katherine:"<h class="pinkfont">Hihihi</h>, no need to worry, my Lord. I only need a tent, I've everything else I need." <span id="KatTent1"> <<linkappend "Buy her a Lady's tent (20 Gold)">><<remove "#KatTent2">> <img src="images/BB/misc/exptent.webp" width=300 height = 420 align="left"> <<set $gold-=20>> <<set $lkrel+=5>> You get her a really nice one. It's colorful enough to wow anyone of noble standing, big enough to move around in, and tall enough to stand up in. You have Gareth set it up, and you notice he hits it off with Agatha, the Lady's servant and maid. She thanks you profusely, and you see her maid clearly grateful for your generosity as well, cause this means she doesn't have to sleep outside, or buy her own tent. <img src="images/BB/misc/maid.png" width=200 height = 350 align="right"> You recall you must be careful with your money, as your coinpurse can only be relieved by your own successful actions, or burdened by failures. The time comes to once again help out with the bombardment, and you get to work immediately. [[Continue|TomitNightBeforeRaid]] <</linkappend>> </span>\ <span id="KatTent2"> <<linkappend "Buy her a regular tent (10 Gold)">><<remove "#KatTent1">> <img src="images/BB/misc/Tent.webp" width=175 height = 200 align="left"> You buy her a regular tent, not at all different from yours, except hopefully with a less leaky roof. You think of swapping them for a second, but quickly change your mind. You are a blue-blooded gentleman, after all. You have Gareth set it up, and you notice he hits it off with Agatha, the Lady's servant and maid. You recall you must be careful with your money, as your coinpurse can only be relieved by your own successful actions, or burdened by failures. The time comes to once again help out with the bombardment, and you get to work immediately. [[Continue|TomitNightBeforeRaid]] <<set $gold-=10>> <</linkappend>> </span> </center> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

<body class="whiteback"> <center><<set $lkrel+=5>> $mcNick:"Deal." The moment you speak, you see Lady Katherine let out a breath you didn't even realize she was holding in. Must be a well educated and raised noble, if she fooled you. You're a humble $mcTitle, considering\ the circumstances of your $mcTitley, but you have always known yourself to be ''very'' intelligent and socially adept. The fact that she fooled you speaks of the quality of her noble upbringing. Lady Katherine:"I... Thank you... Thank you very much, Lord...? What did you say your name was?" $mcNick:"$mcNick, my Lady." Lady Katherine smiles and purrs:<h class="pinkfont">"$mcNick."</h> Lady Katherine:"Would you do this immediately if I may request?" You think for a second, but relent:"Sure. Why not?" Lady Katherine:"I assume you're here to forage for supplies, Agatha would you mind showing our friend here where they may get them?" Agatha looks confused, trying to decipher what Lady Katherine has just ordered, seems to get what she was told to do and curtsies:"Of course, My Lady." She grabs Gareth by the arm, and walks away out of the palace. Lady Katherine:"Would you close the door, please? It's freezing." You do so, and walk up to a table where she seems to intend on briefing you of the Bandit camp's location. Lady Katherine:"See this? This is our village, Tern. This, a bit southeast is Tomit, or nowadays the outskirts of Tomit, this is an old map. Up here to the north, where the source of a stream of water which flows\ down into Tern, is where\ you'll find the Bandit camp. I don't know how many there are, but I can't imagine there are too many. Tomit is the wealthiest city in our realm, and our Barony is certainly not any exception to this region's wealth,\ so Brigands are a rare sight. Or at least they have been so far." $mcNick:"Is that all? What kind of fortifications do they have?" Lady Katherine:"I... I know not. I apologize, $mcTitle." $mcNick:"Very well, I suppose you haven't got scouts." You spot worry on her face, anger that she doesn't have the information you need to defend ''her''. In an attempt to assuage her fears, you say: $mcNick:<em>"You will be safe, my Lady. Of that I assure you."</em> She sighs and looks at you dearly, clearly availed of her worry for her own life. War ''is'' hell and you're a piss-poor representative of peace. She is so happy she gives you a hug, which you, as stinky as you are,\ accept wholeheartedly. \ <video src="images/BB/Kat/KatHug.webm" height=300 width=300 autoplay loop> \ Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> Lady Katherine whispers:<h5 class="pinkfont">"Thank you, Lord. Our worries have been resolved, and you've brought us much respite."</h5>\ $mcNick:"You're welcome, my Lady. I'm off now to actually rid you of these brigands, or else I may appear to be a charlatan, only talking about solutions, but never introducing them." You exit the palace and look around for Gareth. <img src="images/BB/misc/Giggle.webp" align="left"> You spot him and Agatha looking at a shed, probably the one where the supplies are stored, and Gareth says something that humors the lady's servant. Well then, hopefully he shall conquer one more thing today other than just the bandits. He will, however have to do that after you dispose the land of these wretches you've been alerted to. You walk up. $mcNick:"Gareth, Agatha, we're to go fight." Agatha:"Me? Not me!" You chuckle and say:"Not you, girl, we will fight, you stay here and keep your Lady safe." Agatha:"Yes, sir." She says and walks off. You dismiss her and point to your horses, which Gareth understands and walks alongside you as you go to mount up. <<linkappend "To the camp.">> You set off in the direction of Tern's North, which you suppose is North in general, as well. At the source of the stream you find absolutely no one. Could she have fooled you? Could she have fooled herself? You suppose it's not impossible that she has drawn incorrect conclusions from her limited information. You look around, lost in thought, when you spot a dense patch of trees westward from where you are. It's already evening, so you have a hard time seeing things. Taking a more focused look, you notice what appears to be a memento of these bandits. A shield with some crude red scrawl. Hung on a tree branch, presumably to scare people. Not you. You're the danger in these woods. You approach with Gareth, and before you even get to the shield, you see the camp in the distance. There's definitely more of them than you. You don't see any horses, or animals around. Other than the one cooking in the middle of the camp. No fortificationns whatsoever, just a bunch of tents and a fire. You spot many dead bodies in a pile just downhill from the camp, looking like the old men who probably remained in Tern. What savages. <<set $Command++>> You see no reason not to charge, so you wave to your men to catch up first, then build up a charge together with them. There aren't that many of you, and you aren't armed or equipped to the level of Lancer, so you dozen-ish light cavalrymen charge into the fray unprepared and quickly find the enemy routing and utterly \ terrified. You cut down every single ''one'' you come across, and the others pierce or trample them. At the end of this lightning battle, all of the bandits lay dead, you are trotting away victorious, with a cooked rabbit in your hand, gradually becoming cooked rabbit in your stomach, your coin-purse 10 coins \ richer as well. <video src="images/BB/misc/dozencharge.webm" autoplay loop> \ Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> Upon returning, you spot Agatha peeking out a boarded up window, thinking she's invisible, when she mutters something you can't hear, immediately followed by the Lady exiting the Palace. She has a grin and yells out, loud enough for all fourteen of you to hear: Lady Katherine:"Thank you, brave men! I would throw you all a feast, but as you can see, my entire village has been ransacked by those you've slain, and I've no choice but to throw my lot in with you." You trot your horse up to her, dismount and ask her if she would like to be escorted to the safety of your encampment. <<set $lkrel+=10>> Lady Katherine:"Why yes, that would be amazing, my Lord." You help her up your mount, which she rides sideways, much to your chagrin. You and Gareth walk, letting the ladies ride instead of you, which prolongs your journey back greatly. By the time you return, it's already late, late night and you happen to run into Borva, who's just saying good night to the Wojewoda. Knyaz Borva:"''$mcRealm!'' Where have you been?<<if $AmbushC>1>> I've been worried I lost my best man hah!<</if>>" You instruct the men to move on and rest, with only Agatha, Gareth and the Lady sticking by you. $mcNick:"Knyaz Borva!" You emphasize his title, as a hint to the Lady, "The village we came upon was beset by regular, unsuccessful raids by a brigand group. These ladies, Lady Katherine and her servant, Agatha,\ are the only ones who have remained and survived. We have offered them shelter and security." The Knyaz listens to all this very carefully and then says:"Good, good. I'll ensure your safety, my lady. It's a good thing I sent $mcNick here, he's a real blue-blood." Lady Katherine indicates she wants to dismount, which you help her with, not doubting for a second she could do so without you. Gareth helps Agatha, always needing reminders of proper manners. Lady Katherine:"Very well. I put myself at your disposal, Lord Knyaz. Good night, <h class="pinkfont">brave Sir $mcRealm</h>." She compliments you, speaking of you as a knight, even though she knows well from your conversations during the journey back that you are not even remotely close to that, being a lowly $mcTitle. The Knyaz chuckles, clearly amused at the flattery and escorts the ladies away, stopping only to turn around and give you a clear <<linkappend "sign of approval.">> <video src="images/BB/misc/Thumb.webm" autoplay loop> \ Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> <</linkappend>> You walk off, after instructing Gareth, to stable your horses. You get back to your tent, and notice that the tent Gareth bought almost three days ago has been set up. Finally. But why didn't he set it up himself? It wasn't up this morning, when you set off. Weird. Anyway, you're off to sleep. [[Continue|TomitNightBeforeRaid]] <</linkappend>> </center> </body>

<center> <<set $lkrel to -1>> <<set $Morale++>> You decline her deal, and get to work raiding the village for supplies. The lady asks for escort to your camp, which you have no reason to refuse as well. You take as much as you want, get back to camp with the supplies and location for any future raiding parties. Gareth nags you for a while, constantly pestering with how hot they ''both'' were, but you don't let this move you. You have only one goal in mind. <b>[[The Barony's future|TomitNightBeforeRaid]]</b> </center>

<center><<set $KatKiss to true>> <img src="images/BB/Kat/lady.jpg" width=300 height = 450 align="right"> To get away from the cold, you and Lady Katherine have been chilling, literally, with each other fairly often. You've spent a lot of time talking to each other, at first in your tent. then you've moved on to hers, since you figured out it's much warmer in there, not to mention spacious, considering she doesn't have the armor and weapon stands to take up space, like you do in your already smaller tent. You've learned very little about her, even though you've spent at least half an hour every day, perhaps because you're often distracted by her flittering eyelashes and succulent lips. She's a good-looking brunette woman, with noble manners and gentle mannerisms. You're a poor $mcTitle, barely even a Noble, with rough unrefined mannerisms. What is the point of this companionship? Is she so lonely here, that you have managed to present yourself as the only worthwhile partner for dialogue of all the Nobles of the Kingdom? Today is one of those days when she decided to rearrange everything in her tent, and you chuckle silently to yourself because you understand there is probably no reason for her to do that, she just has nothing else to do. Lady Katherine:"Oh, Lord Czarny! Good day to you." She says, not knowing it's evening. $mcNick:"Good evening to you too. And you as well, miss Agatha." You say as Agatha moves out of the tent, knowing her place, while you wait at the entrance for the Lady's invitation. Lady Katherine:"Apologies for the mess, I hope you don't mind sitting on the bed here next to me." She says apologetically while tapping her bed and bedframe. She wasn't content with a cot on the ground. $mcNick:"Of course. I don't mind. After all, this is one of the only bedframes in this whole camp. Though perhaps it's a slightly short-sighted one, Lady Katherine. The talk around the Nobility is that we attack soon." She gets a slightly worried, but hopeful look on her face. One of the few things you've learned from her is that she and her brother are part of a not at all small faction in the Principality, who would rather see their realm align itself with the Swiatlans, rather than the Faizis, seeing as how the cultural and language similarities are far more plentiful between the Höll and the Swiatlan peoples. You suspect she's hopeful for a chance to see her brother again, having not been allowed to parlay with the other side, for fear of giving away information, but concerned more than anything that he won't live to see ''her''. Lady Katherine:"Oh, I so hope you both survive. I've grown to like you quite a bit, good <h class="pinkfont">Sir $mcNick</h>." You chuckle and say:"Well I just came here to give you that piece of information, to warn poor Agatha of the work that awaits her and perhaps she'll warn Gareth." As you finish that sentence, she laughs audibly and you find yourself fighting off the automatic squeeze of your stomach at the presence of butterflies flittering about in it. The reason she laughs at your statement is because Gareth, similarly to your relationship with the Lady, has managed to ingratiate himself to Agatha, at least he seems to think so, having helped her with the many menial and laborious tasks, which usually the Lady assigns to Agatha alone. You've so far let your sergeant do so, meaning help with Agatha's tasks, while you've been busy helping around the more intelligence-related tasks of the besiegement. <<if $rank eq "Lieutenant">> And also foraging.<</if>> You've thought a lot about what to do and decided that you would: <span id="GarethAg"><<linkappend "Let Gareth continue">><<remove "#noGarethAg">> $mcNick:"Well it's a nice enough distraction for them, so they don't disturb us, their ''betters''. Lady Katherine:"Well I respect your decision. Speaking of distractions... <h class="pinkfont">Thank you very much for distracting ''my'' worries</h>." As she says this, sitting right next to you, your legs touching even, you notice her face relax and lose it's constant mask of nobility. She lets herself lean her small head on you, on your chest as she grabs for your support. Emotional and physical. <video src="images/BB/Kat/HugKiss.webm" width=500 height=400 autoplay loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> She seems quite worried indeed. You don't squander the opportunity and give her a loving hug, even feel bold enough to kiss her head. As you two move around on the bed, she detaches herself from your ribcage and looks up at you. She starts moving around her leg, unsure if you are okay with the close contact. Realizing her own discomfort, she smiles to herself very subtly, and turns away her head. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch1.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> Having found the strength in yourself while she seems defeated by her own insecurity, you grab her chin and turn her to yourself. As she looks up at you once more, gazing through your eyes into your very soul, she whispers with the slightest and sweetest voice you've ever heard:<h class="pinkfont">"$mcName..."</h> And then you move in. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch2.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\ You continue like this for a little while longer, sucking on each other's tongues and lips, stopping very briefly at times to catch a breath. You're surprised at the courage of this lady in front of you, being completely undefended from outsiders looking in by her flimsy tent flap (not a euphemism). You even get a nice full hand of her beautiful tight butt. She doesn't even flinch as you let your hands roam all around her behind, from the back of her head, down to her curvy, slim thighs. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch3.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\ Lady Katherine:"Hihi, wait...wait, wait..... ''Wait!''" You reply impatiently, surprising yourself:"What!" Lady Katherine:"I'm sorry Lord $mcTitle, but we can't do this." You get a hold of yourself and relinquish:"Yes.... yes you're right." You sight deeply as you lean your head on hers for a last bit of comfort. You might die soon, but you won't get love out of pity, at least not from this Lady. You quickly say your goodbyes, and you exit her tent, going outside to cool off, probably more so than you need to. <</linkappend>></span> <span id="noGarethAg"><<linkappend "Tell Gareth to prepare for the capture of the city">><<remove "#GarethAg">> Lady Katherine:"Well I respect your decision. <h class="pinkfont">Thank you very much for distracting my worries</h>." As she says this, sitting right next to you, your legs touching even, you notice her face relax and lose it's constant mask of nobility. She lets herself lean her small head on you, on your chest as she grabs for your support. Emotional and physical. <video src="images/BB/Kat/HugKiss.webm" width=500 height=400 autoplay loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> She seems quite worried indeed. You don't squander the opportunity and give her a loving hug, even feel bold enough to kiss her head. As you two move around on the bed, she detaches herself from your ribcage and looks up at you. She starts moving around her leg, unsure if you are okay with the close contact. Realizing her own discomfort, she smiles to herself very subtly, and turns away her head. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch1.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video> Having found the strength in yourself while she seems defeated by her own insecurity, you grab her chin and turn her to yourself. As she looks up at you once more, gazing through your eyes into your very soul, she whispers with the slightest and sweetest voice you've ever heard:<h class="pinkfont">"$mcName..."</h> And then you move in. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch2.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\ You continue like this for a little while longer, sucking on each other's tongues and lips, stopping very briefly at times to catch a breath. You're surprised at the courage of this lady in front of you, being completely undefended from outsiders looking in by her flimsy tent flap (not a euphemism). You even get a nice full hand of her beautiful tight butt. She doesn't even flinch as you let your hands roam all around her behind, from the back of her head, down to her curvy, slim thighs. <video src="images/BB/Kat/Couch3.webm" controls loop> Something's Wrong, dumbass. </video>\ Lady Katherine:"Hihi, wait...wait, wait..... ''Wait!''" You reply impatiently, surprising yourself:"What!" Lady Katherine:"I'm sorry Lord $mcTitle, but we can't do this." You get a hold of yourself and relinquish:"Yes.... yes you're right." You sight deeply as you lean your head on hers for a last bit of comfort. You might die soon, but you won't get love out of pity, at least not from this Lady. You quickly say your goodbyes, and you exit her tent, going outside to cool off, probably more so than you need to. <</linkappend>></span> </center> \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

<<if $TomitSplit>><<include "TomitSplit">><</if>> <img src="images/BB/misc/Nizamy.webp" width=400 height=300 align="left"> <center> To the right it is... You see the squad of Greatswords visibly adapt the moment they spot you. Their formation rotates, the swords come at the ready, and they place the bulk of their men at the spot between you and the firing squads. Remembering your order to protect $nickKr, you think for a second about retreating to safety, leaving the Meatball to the mercy of the Faizis and their blackpowder. You think of Gareth, how you might fare without him, knowing that he would most likely be killed in the Meatball. You find the thought of that loss quite discomforting, and so you decide to charge at the Greatswords regardless of the possibility of death. Your formation is smaller than you would like it to be, about half the size of men waiting for your charge with Great blades of steel. You spot to your left, now that you have turned diagonally towards the Greatsword formation, from the Meatball a detachment, separating from the larger body of Meat and running down at the pike-defended line of gunmen. Without time to look into it further, you conclude they are deserters, leaving the Meatball for perceived safety in the arms of the enemy. <img src="images/BB/misc/Gswords.webp" align="right"> No time now, you point at the Greatswords with the tip of your own blade, making it clear to the Nobility around you who the target is. Trotting forward, you build up just enough momentum for a gallop, the quickest one you've ever done and crash with full might into the well-prepared Greatsword wall, yelling Death to the enemy. You're the tip of the spear as the first man to charge, no lance, and only sword and shield to protect you from your adversaries. The blades immediately reach you, slapping at your brigandine with great force, somehow leaving you unscathed. You think a quick prayer for the old Blacksmith from a neighboring Barony to $mcRealm, for the magic work he has done, which has now saved your life. You easily break through the Greatswords, quickly trampling the gunmen alongside the other Nobles, their constant firepower being a much bigger threat to the Meatball than these Knights. ''And indeed Knights they are.'' <img src="images/BB/misc/Agin.webp" width=400 height=520 align="left"> Having broken through and trampled through many gunmen, you turn around to see the severely undermanned cavalry formation of yours has diminished greatly. You had just about $TomitMen men following your lead at the start of this charge, you've now found it is <<set $TomitMen=$TomitMen/2+5>><<set $TomitMen=Math.round($TomitMen)>>\ $TomitMen. Those are dead ''Nobles'', and it's only luck that $nickKr isn't dead, as you see him slicing through a couple of Holliks while getting his shield nicked off bit by bit. The Holliks are luckily not aware of his great and important status, as they do not give chase after him while he and the rest of the formation move around, not letting themselves be pinned down. The gunmen on this side are gone. You can't do much about the gunmen on the other side, but you also can't finish your fight yet. If you were to leave these men to do whatever they want, they would likely charge at the Meatball, now that they've no duty to protect the gunmen. Seeing as how the Meatball is preoccupied by the enemy one to it's front, and the gunmen to its' left a charge from it's side, especially done by these men, clearly veterans with good equipment, or at least Nobles, would very plausibly destroy the Meatball. Even if that were to be avoided, there would be so many dead, your Kingdom's campaign would be destroyed immediately, without ever reaching the Great Vizierlik, lacking the proper manpower for a further war. No you cannot leave this fight at all. ''You must fight on''. You get back into the fray, just barely getting up to a canter before being stopped in your momentum. You cut and hack and slash and defend. You move around the steel messengers of Death, evading the final Letter every single second. This continues for half an hour, during which time you don't even stop to look at the match going on between the Meatballs, nor at the other line of gunmen<<if $TomitSplit>>, nor at the street from which reinforcements should arrive<</if>>. The adrenaline starts to leave your body, your muscles now starting to feel numb, much alike your mind, glancing around only to see that there are maybe a dozen men left on their mounts. An unseated cavalryman in these circumstances is a dead cavalryman, you don't even think about looking for the friendly bodies among the dead. However, the thing is, many of the bodies are also hostile ones. Among your enemies, you see now a clear drop in energy, obviously they are as tired as you are, having to rely on their own feet to carry them, and wielding heavier weaponry. The dead Knights lying around them are the cherry on top for you. The Greatswords fight with a much diminished vigour, just as you, yet they fall with quicker pace than your cavalry. You disengage, and yell out the command to your fellows to follow. Turning your head, you watch the few Knights still there, still alive as they drop their swords and rest on them, looking dead on their feet. You've done your job. Now what about the other side? They were defended by pikemen, who would decimate your dozen men if you were to charge. Are you going to be required to march upon them on foot? You're already quite dead in your musculature, you can't even imagine going to more battle. [[Look upon the pikemen|TomitEnd]] </center>

<<set $TomitSplit to 1>> <<set $TomitMen/=2>> Figuring out that you've limited capabilities and even more limited options for retreat, which means limited options for survival, you figure you should try for a slightly more risky maneuver which would hopefully save your skin for sure, and possibly improve your chances of winning, as well. You know that the Gate which was broken down is not viable to get into the city. The walls and bridge and gate are all replaced by rubble created from the daily bombardment by your besiegers. However... you're already inside the city. Generally the way cities are taken up by assault is that the attacking army scales up the walls, defeats the enemy placed there, and then opens the gate for the rest of the army. Seeing as how you're already inside, why not fight your way to one of the other gates? Well, that would clearly still leave the Meatball defeated, so you can't leave, but you can let the rest of the Nobles inside. Still, that would leave the Meatball to the mercy of Blackpowder, which you wouldn't want to see the results of. ''But'', you could split your cavalry formation to two, send one detachment to the Gate, and assault the Greatswords with the other. That would work. $mcNick:"$nickKr!" $nickKr:"Yes, $mcTitle?!" $mcNick:"Instruct that man over there to take half of our cavalry to the gate!" You point out at a man whom you know is a decent enough commander. $nickKr:"The gate? It's broken, we've no use for it." $mcNick:"Not the gate we came in through, but the other one. Or at least one of the other ones... We've to let the rest in or secure a retreat point! Tell Wojin over there to open the nearest functioning gate and hold it's position. I want you to join them and find the Wojewoda. Tell him of our dire circumstances." $nickKr:"No! I will not flee! I beseech you, $mcNick. I want to fight!" Damn insubordination. You can't exactly order him, you aren't officialy in charge here. Plus he's the Wojewoda's son, you're poor as shit. $mcNick:"Fine. But find someone who will carry the message! Is that clear?" $nickKr:"Of course, $mcTitle!" You glance around one last time... There is nothing you can do leftwards, pikemen are there. Even though they clearly look like peasants, it's not hard to raise a pike and hold it in place while you all stab yourselves onto them. No, there is only one direction here.

<center><img src="images/BB/misc/TiredK.webp" align="left">\ You see quickly that the men to the left of the Meatball are largely dead, replaced by what is clearly friendly men-at-arms. All of them are bloody, some dead, most of them tired, but they have smiles on their faces. Not only have they managed to get themselves out of the fray of fighting at the center of the Meatball, but they've managed to save their comrades, the ones who form up the Meatball, the bulk of the Army. Your sergeant, Gareth stands right in the center of this contingent of men, clearly the de-facto leader. His timely intervention has saved the left flank, while you saved the right flank. "Good man", you say quietly, to yourself. You notice that much of your surroundings have been set ablaze and burned up already while you were busy fighting the Greatswords. You remember noticing some lights coming out of nowhere while fighting, though you dared not distract yourself. The wooden column just to the right of you, holding up the house or inn or pub or whatever it used to be where you have decided to rest for a bit, is burned entirely black, reminding you somewhat of the woods back home, where your last name comes from. The woods which are quite dark in color, when wetted by rain, tend to get even darker, which is why your House is called <<linkappend "Czarny">> (meaning - black) <</linkappend>>. <<if $TomitSplit>>Quickly enough,<<else>>A while after,<</if>> the rest of the Cavalry comes, and they present a new nail in the coffin of the army of Höll, their following charge being the final one. They come to a tired cavalry, a tired pair Meatballs fighting, and a tired contingent of Men to it's left. Yet their newfound presence only presents itself as a form of salvation for yourself and the general infantry, which you aren't a part of today, after all. The men on your side view them today not as the pompous Nobility which has managed to put the brunt of today's battle onto their charges - the peasants, which is how they usually view them. Today they see a heroic intervention in a tough battle, coming in the final moments of their men's plight, prepared and eager to fight. And you can't help but feel the same way yourself. You barely have the strength to keep just your upper body straight, being on horseback. You're too tired to even follow with your head the charge which is ordered to destroy the enemy Meatball, once a part of the cavalry is in proper position to do so. You just wait for the order to go to bed, and are rearing to gallop your horse there. Wherever that bed may be. You spot the Wojewoda riding up to your small contingent of surviving nobles, not even thinking about anything but his son, only speaking to him, hugging him quickly, and disengaging. You see $nickKr turn to the rest of you and yell:"Dismount! We're relieved!" <<if $TomitSplit>>Oh now he's going to listen!<</if>>\ You see the Wojewoda wait and look at your squad, because only a squad ''has'' survived, and he yells something to the many aides he has brought with him, who are on foot, after which they move in to lead the horses of your cavalrymen, presumably to rest and be groomed. Looking to your right, $nickKr seems to be waiting for you, right next to the burned wooden column. He has a tired, but clearly bright smile, reaching up to his eyes, as he looks at you, which you take as an invitation for him to thank you. You walk closer, when you hear a big croak coming from above you, lowering your head as if the Heavens are about to strike you down. You keep moving towards $nickKr and looking at him, you notice the wooden column is about to break. Summoning the last strength in your legs you run forward, and push him as hard as you can, out of the reach of the roof stretching over you. You feel a great weight fall upon you as you get knocked out. The last words you hear are:"Look at him covered in ash and soot. Poor $mcTitle." From someone, kind of sounds like the Wojewoda. "Hah, he's one of a kind, the lad. A real <h1> ''[[Black Baron|EOV]] ''</h1> </center>