The Evolution of Warfare - Part I - Heavy Cavalry

This is meant to be the first of a multi-part series detailing the development of warfare in its present state in the Flanaess, which is basically on the cusp of shifting from heavy cavalry (the armored knight) to a pike formation dominated model. I have purposefully kept out any discussion of magic as powerful arcane and divine spell-casters are not very plentiful in my version of Greyhawk and those that do exist sure as hell don't want to risk throwing away the power they have by being run down by some axe-wielding goon on a battlefield. The more plentiful low-level arcane spell-casters who aren't willing to risk their skins either. The best a wealthy knight might get out of his low-level household magus before a battle is a shield spell or something like that. As far as divine magic-users, they have probably exhausted their resources before the battle has even begun casting bless and other such spells, reserving healing magic for commanders and other important figures.

The next parts of the series will deal with pikemen, other infantry and specialized troops. That's assuming I ever get it written.

Scholars have argued for centuries over how the Oeridians, barbaric tribes of horsemen for the most part, came to dominate the Flanaess in the period of the migrations. Some, the Savant Sage amongst them, have attributed it partly to the diplomatic skills of the Oerid in dealing with the native Flan and demi-human communities, as well as the lack of diplomacy amongst the Suel. Other scholars of far lesser standing have speculated that it was the possession of powerful artifacts of arcane power, though the primary sources quoted as evidence of this are full of, if not composed entirely of myth and peasant folklore, comparable to legends of the antiquity of the Ghost Tower of Inverness, placing its foundation “...in the elder days before the Invoked Devestation and the Rain of Colorless Fire, when the ancient peaks of the Abbor-Alz still thrust skyward sharp and majestic and the Flan tribesmen were but newcomers to the land.” Likewise flights of dragons commanded by Oeridian mages and other such fanciful imaginings have absolutely no place in the chronicles of the Oeridians and their rise to dominance. To be sure powerful artifacts such as the Mighty Servant of Leuk-O and the Orbs of Dragonkind did exist, but were either lost at the time or in the hands of the Suel enemies of the Oeridian tribes. Such tales may get an inventive bard a free mug of ale or please the vanity of a tyrannical king, but are not worth the ink spent by so-called scholars who write such fairy-tales down.
While there is truth in what the Savant Sage has said, as my studies have shown the primary reason for the dominance of the Oeridian tribes was nothing less than sheer, naked aggression and the will and military technology to use it.

Centuries before the Baklunish-Suloise Wars the Oeridans had been a nomadic people of the harsh steppe lands to the west of those two great empires, bordering on the lands of the Paynim peoples who had been brought into the Baklunish Empire not a hundred years before. Even before the beginnings of the conflicts which would culminate in the Twin Cataclysms the Oerid made incursions into the Baklunish Empire. The reasons for this have been lost to the years between then and now, but one can speculate that they were driven by the depredations of enemies further to the west, climatic changes, population growth and overcrowding, or any other of a number of practical explanations. At the same time the Empire was undergoing a period of turmoil, when recently conquered peoples suffered under the depredations of corrupt satraps appointed by a string of weak emperors. Riots, rebellions, and food-shortages were common and disrupted the unity of the Empire. Whatever their reasons the Oeridians did invade the territory of the Baklunish Empire and met with great success, driving deep into the Empire, even to the eastern core of the Empire centered around the shores of Lake Udrukankar.

As is related in an pre-cataclysm tome entitled “The Barbarian Invasions,” which I had the good fortune to find in the Great Library of the city of Ekbir, a chief of the Oeridian Hexnan tribe -- Serit by name -- led his warriors even into the holy stones of Tovag Baragu. There and in the surrounding temple complex they killed the Baklunish priests, looted the temples and even carried off the priestess-virgins dedicated to the cult of Istus the Spinner, the younger incarnation of that goddess.

Despite their short-term successes the invaders were eventually brought to heel by the Baklunish soldiery. The result was the establishment of Oeridian settlements in what is now the eastern Dry Steppes. Out of a truce was forged a state within which the invading Oerid tribes were bound by treaty as a sort of quasi-territory of the Empire. Neither citizens nor aliens, these so-called foederati tribes were allowed almost full autonomy and subsidies of money and grain in return for providing military service. As conflict bloomed with the Suloise Empire in the years that followed similar treaties were established with the Oerid tribes that had remained along the Empire’s western borders. These mercenaries saw heavy use during the wars and benefitted from the adoption of superior armor and weaponry that the Baklunish were able to provide, turning lightly armored and armed mounted warriors, relying primarily on swift attacks with the short compound bow as a primary weapon, into heavily armored fighters whose preferred tactic was to overrun the enemy with shocking, thunderous lance. Though a far cry from the heavy cavalry of our own times, the basic tactics have remained unchanged. Interestingly the development of pike formations in the last century has led to a resurgence in the use of light mercenary cavalry, though this time it is primarily the Baklunish providing the service and Oeridians who are the employers.

For centuries after the period of the migrations it was such heavy cavalry, drawn from the aristocratic classes of Oeridian societies who dominated the battlefield. Of course there were times when this did not always bear out, such as the surprising victory at the Battle of the Thousand Banners of the primarily infantry-based forces of the Iron League over the cream of Ahlissan knighthood. Yet overall the heavy-cavalryman still dominates in the field.

The Goblin Winter- A Tale of the Halflings of the Flinty/Good Hills

This was inspired by events described as happening in the Shire in some of Tolkien's stories. In writing it I debated locating it in the the Flinty Hills as I did or in the Good Hills, so I have two versions. Thus the weird title.

Flinty Hills Version: A major event in the history of the Halfling communities of the Flinty Hills. In -109 the Halflings of the Flinty Hills swore allegiance to Almor II and all his descendants. The head of the most prominent clan was granted the title of Baron of the Flinty Hills. The bearer of that title recieves it from his sire and he serves as the spokesman for and representative to his Human sovereign for the Halflings of the Flinty Hills. He also acts as an advisor and aid to the Laird, who is responsible to all the clan heads and village mayors of the Hills for the performance of those few duties required by the post. The Halflings themselves prefer a more democratic rule and elect a Laird every three years. Halfling villages and clan holds are fairly self-governing so neither position has much in the way of real duties. That all changes when under threat, and so at such times, amongst the Halflings of the Flinty Hills, all eyes look to the Laird and Baron for guidance and leadership. Such an event happened in 179 when Caldni Vir, Prince of the North Province drove the Goblins and Orcs from the lands between the Teesar Torrent and Rakers. As any who know those races can tell you, one Orc or Goblin tribe is never happy to welcome another, especially if they are seeking refuge. This being the case, rather than fleeing to the Rakers where their cousins dwelt, the humanoid tribes of the land soon to be known as the Bone March fled west into the Flinty Hills where, mistaking the nature of Halflings, they thought would be easy pillage and slaughter. The Winter of 179 had been particularly harsh and the Harp River, flowing between the Flinty and Blemu Hills, had frozen so that the humanoid crossed it easily and began sacking the eastern communities before any warning could be sounded. In a short time however, the alarm was raised and the war banner passed from village to village. Farmers and grocers, innkeepers and blacksmiths brought out little-used weapons and armor, and quickly gathered east of the village of Perraroya, which the humanoids were swiftly approaching. When the horde reached the plain below the town they were surprised to see ranks of Halflings gathered on the slopes above them. Confident with their success at slaughtering unprepared farmers and their families the Hobgoblin warchief, known to us only by the name of Snotnose given him in a satirical Halfling song commemorating the event, ordered his troops to charge up the slope. They were almost to the Halfling lines when the defenders began rolling heavy barrels covered in flaming pitch down on them. This was followed by several volleys of arrows and slingshot and then a charge down the slope into the confused and panicking humanoids. As their ranks broke and they began fleeing the field en mass, the Baron Foday led his small force of armored cavalry into Snotnose's guard, where according to the song the Baron cleaved the Hobgoblin warchief from "top to nape". The few humanoids that survived the battle fled north toward the Rakers, never to be seen again. The skin of the Hobgobin's Warg mount is to this day worn as a cloak by the Barons of the Flinty Hills.

Good Hills Version: While many peoples of the Flanaess celebrate the 4th day of Needfest as the return of Pelor, when the days begin getting longer again, the Halfling communities of the Good Hills have another reason to celebrate it. To them it commemorates the most significant event in their history, the Goblin Winter.
In -360 the Tooka Halfling tribe, having migrated into the Flanaess to escape the effects of the Twin Cataclysms on their homeland in the far west, turned south into what was coalescing into the Kingdom of Keoland. While the lowlands had been settled by Humans, the hills along the eastern bank of the Javan River were relatively uninhabited, except for a few groups of Gnomes in the southern hills near the Dreadwood. So the Tooka clans settled in what they named the Good Hills. When Keogh of the Rhola established the Kingdom of Keoland in -342 CY the chieftains of the Halfling clans swore allegiance to him and promised to hold true to all of his descendants. Keogh, well pleased with his new subjects granted the chief of the tribe the title of Baron of the Good Hills. Even today the bearer of that title receives it from his sire and serves as the spokesman for and representative to his Human sovereign for the Halflings of the Good Hills. Though today the Halflings themselves prefer a more democratic rule and elect a Laird every three years, the Baron also acts as an advisor to the Laird, who is responsible to all the clan chieftains and village mayors of the Hills for the performance of those few duties required by that post. Halfling villages are fairly self-governing so neither position has much in the way of real duties. That all changes when under threat though, and at such times, amongst the Halflings of the Good Hills, all eyes look to the Laird and Baron for guidance and military leadership.
Such an event occurred in 276 CY when a particularly brutal winter drove a number of Goblinoid tribes down from the Jotens into the lowlands. There, united by a brutal Hobgoblin war-chief, and mistaking the peaceful nature of Halflings, they thought they would find easy pillage and slaughter. As stated above the Winter that year had been very cold and harsh, and the surface of the Javan River, flowing between the Jotens and Good Hills, had frozen solid so that the Goblins crossed it easily and began sacking the western communities before a warning could be sounded. In a short time however, the alarm was raised and the War Arrow passed from village to village. Farmers and grocers, innkeepers and blacksmiths brought out little-used weapons and armor, and quickly gathered in the town of Flen, which the humanoids were swiftly approaching. When the horde reached the plain below the town on the 4th of Needfest they were surprised to see ranks of Halflings gathered on the hill above them. Despite this and confident from their success at slaughtering unprepared farmers and their families, the Hobgoblin war-chief, known to us only by the name of Snotnose, given to him in a satirical Halfling song commemorating the event, ordered his warriors to charge uphill. They were almost to the Halfling lines when the defenders began rolling heavy barrels covered in flaming pitch down on them. This was followed by several volleys of arrows and slingshot and then a charge downhill into the confused and panicking humanoids. As the ranks of the Goblinoids broke and they began fleeing the field en mass, the Baron Foday led his small force of armored cavalry into Snotnose's guard, where according to the song, the Baron cleaved the Hobgoblin war-chief from "crown to nape". The few humanoids that survived the battle fled back west into the Jotens, not to be seen again for many decades. The skin of the war-chief’s Winter Wolf mount is to this day worn as a cloak by the Barons of the Good Hills.
So now, each year on the anniversary of that battle, the Halflings of the Good Hills gather for celebration and feasting. Every town and village holds a pageant which reenacts the events of the battle, though in less bloody fashion. “King Snotnose” and his “Goblin warriors” are soundly “beaten” with bundles of switches and brooms until they flee the festival grounds, abandoning their “Warg mounts” - constructed of branches, bark and dead leaves. Those are used to stoke a huge bonfire. The celebrants then eat, drink and dance around the fire long into the night, and as those who know Halfings can well tell you, sometimes into the next morning.

The Rat Tower, A Folk Legend of Almor

This legend and adventure were inspired by a German folk tale I read somewhere once. The story of a wicked ruler who treats his subjects cruelly and gets his comeuppence is the stuff of peasant lore. While the legend is in a form I would call complete the adventure definitely needs some work.

Mike and Eliz. If you are reading this STOP RIGHT NOW!!!

There was a Prelate of Almor, Crabul by name, who came to rule that land during the “Turmoil Between Crowns” (437 CY). Though he held a priestly office, Crabul was a wicked man, more concerned with satisfying his greed than with the material and spiritual well-being of his flock.
He starved the peasants to stuff his storehouses with grain, taxed them unmercifully to fill his coffers, and abducted their fair daughters to sate his beastly lust. And when they had been reduced to landless vagabonds, he had a great hall built of wood, and invited a multitude of the peasant masses to a feast, locking the doors behind them and setting fire to the hall, where they all perished.
That night would be the last good sleep Prelate Crabul would ever have, for when he awoke the next morning his servants told him with alarm how an army of rats had appeared in the night and begun eating the rich fields of grain around his estate. Soon another servant came and reported that the rats had moved on to the granaries. The next servant to appear was followed by a swarm of the creatures which poured into the hall. The wicked Prelate ran for his life, making it to the docks and his waiting barge just before the living tide.
He laughed and mocked them as his ship landed him at a fortified tower on a rocky islet in the middle of the Harp River, but when he awoke in the morning it was to a sight that chilled his blood. The rats had formed a living bridge from one bank of the river, stretching to the rock upon which the tower stood, and swarming across was the remainder of the horde. Soon they covered the rock and began climbing the slippery tower walls, pouring in through the arrow slits and windows on the upper floors.
When the next morning dawned the rats were gone. A group of fishermen rowed over to the tower and knocked in the sally port of the great door, and on the top floor of the tower, among the bones of his servants, they found the skeleton of Prelate Crabul, stripped clean of flesh, still clad in his rich robes of office.
Since that day the tower has been named the Rat Tower, and is used to hold a surplus of grain, held in trust by the current Prelate, to feed the peasantry if there is ever a bad harvest. But no guard is stationed there, for the ghost of Crabul is said to haunt the tower each night, staggering through its halls as a swarm of ghostly rats cover his body, eating his flesh while he screams for mercy that will never come.

A Short Adventure Plot for The Rat Tower - The tower is located several miles upriver from the city of Chathold, and is used as a granary to house surplus wheat for the large estate which is personally owned by the Prelate. Once a year, after harvest, farmers and fishermen from the fief’s villages are employed to replace the previous years store (if unused) with fresh grain and distribute the surplus that they have taken out back to the local villages. This always is done in as little time as possible, since the tower is commonly known to be haunted. The only guard on the island is a large group of cats who are regularly fed by local fishermen who simply dump some of their catch on the shore of the rocky island every few days. The cats seem to do a decent job of keeping the toll taken by vermin on the grain supply to a minimum.
Harvest time is reaching its conclusion and the Factor who runs the Prelate’s estate is getting the annual grain transfer organized. It has been drawn to his attention by the fishermen who feed the cats that their offerings have been rotting on the shore for the last week. The Factor is concerned that something may be amiss in the tower, but cannot find any locals brave enough to investigate. For this reason he has a hired a small group of adventurers in Chathold to check out the situation. A fisherman and his son have been hired to row the party out to the island and wait for them to signal to be picked up.
Unknown to all parties a cloaker has taken up residence in the tower and has eaten the cats. Besides that creature the tower is still haunted by the ghost of the Prelate Crabul.