"This is a good day for our nation and our people! Our enemies are wealthy, their warriors weak, their lands plentiful and ripe for the taking! Indeed, the worse hardships we have to face is deciding who to attack next! But is that not why we are here? To decide the next country to feel the bite of our swords and the work of our plows? I will not make speeches, but instead lay the problem out in its fullest. No doubt there will be many speeches before the day is out.
The Saxons are the strongest and most warlike nation in Britain, yet their might is mostly smoke. Their armies are numerous, yet are comprised mostly of peasants, poorly trained and worse led. The Welsh might have fought bravely when their backs were to the sea, but they were fighting for their homes and their country. The Saxon peasants are largely Mercians, with little stomach to fight for their Saxon overlords. They would rather live under our rule than that of their most hated enemies.
The Scottish lands are rich, yet lightly defended. Their forces concentrate for an offence against the warlike Picts. As their armies dash themselves against Pictish shields, we can easily rush in and seize their lands. The Scottish army, if we ever meet it on the field, is lightly armoured, and will soon fall under our arrows and swords.
The Irish are as wealthy, if not wealthier, than the Scots. Yet over the years their army has swollen, and all of their lands are guarded by powerful armies. Yet the Irish refusal to learn the use of bows will be their undoing. Almost every Irish warrior carries a javelin into combat, and is fearsome and strong enough to throw it through shields and into the bodies of men. Yet the Irish cannot hope to throw a javelin as far as our warriors can fire an arrow, and thus their armies will be but giant pincushions, to finally be cut down at our warrior's leisure.
The Picts are as warlike and poor as always, ready to- I'm sorry, just a second.
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Now then, what's this all about?
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You can't be serious. Tell me you're joking.
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I don't believe you. They had just married one of their princesses to us. I'm going to need more evidence; what you're saying is preposterous.
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Is that what I think it is?
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Fine then. Come, tell me the entire thing from the beginning. They attacked in Wales and Lindissi, correct?
I'm Supposed to be the Aggressor 'round Here!
Floki Jonsson nervously looked from side to side. Their commander, Rognvald Njalsson had called out the farmers just a couple of days ago. He had simply told them that they were being attacked, and that every able-bodied man was needed to repel the invasion. The number of men with actual weapons was pitifully few. Most were poor farmers who had settled in Wales to take over the farms that had been abandoned by the Welsh. About a hundred of the farmers had spears and shields, the rest being too poor to afford weapons. Thus the rest brought with pitchforks, flails and whatever agricultural implements they could lay their hands on. Floki had been lucky, one of his ancestors had been on a raid in ages past, and his sword was now firmly gripped in Floki's hand. He was in command of a band of farmers, probably because he had an actual weapon. Rognvald had placed most of the farmers in the nearby woods, to set a trap for the invaders, who were apparently close at hand. Now all that they could was wait for the enemy to come.
Floki strained his neck searching for the enemy. Soon a smudge resolved itself on the horizon.
Could it be? No, it can't be.
It was. The Northumbrians were the attackers, and they were heading on the wrong side of the trap. Seeing that his plan would no longer work, Rognvald signalled for a general attack. The Northumbrian forces were pitifully few, and perhaps could be swarmed and defeated.
Yet the Northumbrians were better armed than the farmers, and their charge brought low many of their enemies.
Yet soon reinforcements came to bolster the Norse ranks, and the Northumbrians found themselves surrounded.
Yet half of the Northumbians were armed with bows, against which the unarmoured farmers had no defence. A couple bands of the farmers therefore rushed forward to attack the archers, knowing that they had no other choice if they wanted to save their homes and families
As the brave farmers made their sacrifice, the combat in the woods was drawing to a close. Surrounded, tired and with scores of their friend dead, the Northumbrians finally surrendered and were taken prisoner.
Rognvald, seeing the courage and the bravery of the farmers, ordered his tired and weary men to join battle once again.
The archers, seeing the swarm of angry men in front of them, briefly fought before turning to run.
They were perused for several miles, before the angry farmers collapsed from exhaustion.
The Northumbrians had been defeated. For now.
For his work in repelling the Northumbrian invasion into Wales, Rognvald Njalsson was made a general.
((Yeah no. Lindissi can go on its own for a little while.))
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Topic: Let's Play: Viking: Total War! Has Sprung a Leak in a Storm (Read 25822 times)