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The Battle of Bannockburn, 1314AD Role Play idea/example

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Sir William:
Greetings, fellow Knights!  I know I'd made mention about RPGs in another thread and thought I'd put down one that was already done, so you could see what I meant and also, if it seemed like something we could all participate in.  One thing I have noticed is that pretty much everyone on here has a firm grasp on the Queen's English as well as the know-how to string a number of words along into coherent sentences.  This is not always so, at least not on some of the forums I've been on.  With that said, here we go!

I'll uh...do it in other posts so as not to confuse anyone.  Or myself.  ;)

Sir William:
Particulars:  The Battle of Bannockburn, Year of Our Lord 1314.

Robert the Bruce leads his Scottish freedom fighters into battle against the large English army approaching from the south. For years the Scottish had been fighting their hearts out to free themselves from English tyranny, and Robert The Bruce knew that if he could pull off a stunning victory here with his smaller, less equipped army, the war would be his.

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For historical background the Scots pull off a stunning victory against all odds, the English lose half of their army and are forced to recognize Scotland as a foreign power.

*Note, this does not mean it has to follow the historical course. Role-playing is very much a "What If" matter, which is very fun.


Each player creates their own character and backstory; they are also responsible for their men's actions as well as themselves- you can get as down and dirty or as light and airy as you wish.  Naturally, the more detail, the better the event.

Dramatis Personae were as follows:

England-
Sir William de Tancarville (me)
Quinn Chandler

Scotland-
William McFarlane
Eoghan Irvine

Sir William:
Dramatis Personae - Background example (I'll use mine here)

Name- Sir William de Tancarville
Allegiance - England

Weapons/armour- Rides a destrier, as do most knights. Wears a full linked hauberk, once worn by his father; he has added steel bracers with gold chasing and the lion passant, symbol of his family's arms, with matching spaulders and greaves with attached poleyns, relatively new among the lower landed gentry. His great helm closely resembles the transitional helm once worn by his greatest grandsire, William I on Crusade, complete with the cross cutout on the right cheekplate, no lace, no frills. Has a large heater shield strapped over/behind his right shoulder, which matches his tunic and carries the lion passant emblem of his family; and a well balanced single hand cavalry sword with a long, lean blade with the inscription 'NINOMINEDOMINI' inlaid in iron in the fuller of the blade, on his right hip(type Xa handed down from generation to generation, wielded by his 4 times removed grandsire, William I de Tancarville, in the Third Crusades serving under King Richard Coeur de Lion) with matching brown scabbard and belts patterned after the original, Crusades-era scabbard that has since fallen apart. Carries a utilitarian, guard-less short sword in a scabbard riding sideways at the small of his back (a gift from his Irish wife who'd found it amongst her father, the former Earl's possessions), (partially hidden by the cantled saddle) as well as his longsword's mate- a dagger with a custom made matching brown scabbard that sits on his left hip, angled toward the front for rapid deployment in the off-hand. Wears a yellow and green silk parti-colored tunic over his armour displaying his familial crest of the red lion passant. His horse, a fiery chestnut destrier with white fetlocks, is outfitted in kind, with matching colors.

Retinue - William has taken 50 of his greatest knights to accompany him to battle; all are caparisoned identically to the Lord de Tancarville, with the only difference being the lack of obvious finish to their weapons and armor, being knights of his mesnie.

Appearance - He was named for his grandsires, the first of whom was named after William the Conqueror, perhaps the greatest William of them all?  He is tall for the era, of a darker hue but well built, and comely to a courtly maiden's discerning eye. Clean shaven, keeps his hair shorn in a show of piety, much like his Norman ancestors. Prides himself on his knightly attributes, namely his horsemanship, superior skill in arms as well as his adherence to the chivalric code.

Personality- humble, as it should be for a knight of the lower gentry, albeit landed; takes great pride (and pain) in being compared to his storied ancestor; is known in his territories as a stern, but fair lord who values his people as more than just chattel to produce for his needs alone. Quick to anger, but will listen to reason, given enough time to calm and be willing to. Well-loved and respected by the people of his lands, as well as his family. As he nears his 30th winter, his men have noticed a more stable aspect to his demeanor, much to their hidden delight. Maybe he will sire children, grow old, retire? Maybe drills won't be so hard-fought as they were used to? Mayhap one day, he would say, with a glint in his eye.

Additional Info- Tancarville arrives to support his King, even if his policies do not gibe with Tancarville's noble sensibilities. After all, Edward II was nothing like his sire, Edward Longshanks, who had wreaked untold havoc amongst the Scots only a few years before.

Secretly, he empathizes with the Scots, but is bound by the oaths he and his household swore to the King; as such he realizes he must be present, but will not be party to the outrages some of his lesser minded contemporaries, such as that farce, Prima Nacht.

Here's one of the opposition:

Allegiance: Scots

Name: William McFarlane

Weapons/armour: The generic kilt, red and green patterning, bare chest with family mementos hanging from a chain, including a carved bone mountain he cherishes. He carries a monolithic axe and a heavy Kite shield.

Retinue: 100 strong men, all from his village. Every one a brother, a friend, a mate. All equipped with light shields, and either axes or broadswords.

Appearance: Quite tall, 5'8" or so. Long sandy brown hair and very muscley, broad appearance. Wears sandals. Green eyes.

Personality: Respects his country and is very patriotic. Will fight for his village and friends to the very end. Has a family at home waiting for his return.

Additional Info: Has a tendency to drink...a lot.


So you see, you can keep it plain and/or simple, or somewhat more, its up to the player.

Sir William:
Beginning skirmish (each separated bit was written by a different player, corresponding with/channeling their character):

McFarlane stood atop the marshy hill, staring across towards the forest. His men stood to his sides, behind, but none were foolish enough to step in front of him. Cracking and soft speech slowly resonated from the trees across from him, although he could see nothing.

He stood waiting, and then looked down into the bog at the base of the valley. It was filthy, and coated in swarming flies.

"READY!" He shouted to his men in a thick accent and drawing his axe, and willingly the men did the same.

"This is a day for war."
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Behind a screen of trees in the forest, William took up his position at the King's right flank; he had been tasked, along with his men to be the outriders- when it was time to take to the field, he was to run with the initial charge (left and right flanks), make contact then scatter as if they'd lost their nerve and make a feigned retreat toward the woods directly behind where they started, where a reserve force of some 1000 pikemen supported by twice as many archers lie in wait. As the advancing Scotsmen cleared the rise and headed toward the hidden soldiers, William, his mesnie and 200 other knights-errant sworn to the king would wheel out and circle behind the charging Scots, to fall upon them from behind- and then reform ranks over the dead to join the full charge the King would then send in. The ensuing melee will be brutal, and long, but not as bloody as it could be if Quinn doesn't hold up his end of the bargain.

As they waited, he took a moment to glance at the men arrayed around and behind him; he knew he need not worry about his own knights- he'd trained each one of them personally, knew their strengths and weaknesses -ones he could depend on the most. These other knights, well...all were sworn to uphold the chivalric code, but he knew a good number of them did little but pay lip service to such ideals. It was those men he could not count on, so he would need to keep an eye on them...if there were a traitor amongst them, they would be dealt with on the field of battle, like any other enemy of the Crown arrayed against them.
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The Scottish soldiers, if they could be called that, stepped forward cautiously and took several steps down the hill. The braver ones lost their footing and fell to the bottom, only to either lie still or scramble back up.

The longbows of the British scared the Scots, their deadly missiles capable of easily penetrating their makeshift armour.

"We'll wait," McFarlane announced.

The Scots muttered in agreement, and the village drunk drew out a flask and took a large swig of some alcoholic beverage. William took note to not fight near him in the melee.

The movements of the enemy increased, and the sound reached the men across the humming of the bog life. A steady chill of alertness spread over them as they waited for the enemy to move...
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As the minutes crawled by, William felt a bead of sweat gather at the nape of his neck, right where he could not get to it at the moment- nor would he, knowing that any sort of fidgety reaction would not be read well by his assigned troops- as it started the inevitable roll down the indentation of his spinal column he was blindsided by the unbidden memory of his wife, the fair Aoife, Lady de Tancarville, formerly of Striguil- how she could induce such fits of perspiration in him he never knew but no matter the time or place, when in the presence of his striking wife, he was more like a fledgling squire than the seasoned knight/commander he knew he was. Ah, how he loved that woman...small wonder he should be thinking now of his lady love, now, upon the field of battle, just before the storm- he never took for granted the life the good Lord had seen to bless him with, in fact, as thankful as he was, he always understood, as he did now, that he may never look upon her with waking eyes again. Such thoughts would sadden him long ago, but now, they only awakened a righteous fire in the pit of his heart where she dwelt tenaciously against any onslaught, be it of man or God.

By that one spark, his entire body felt as if it were aflame; his right hand tightened on the reins as his left hand sought the hilt of his war sword unbidden...his eyes straked across the field; he knew those damnable Scots were out there, he could smell their stink a mile away, but why weren't they charging like the madmen they usually were?

He stole a look a glance to his left to gauge the King's reaction but his face was unreadable even at this short distance, surrounded as he was by the Royal Guard in addition to the flower of knighthood that could be mustered at his various castles, even as far as Canarfon, Wales as he had garrisoned that castle against future revolt.

Now began in earnest, the game of waiting.

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So that's an example; I remember having great fun coming up with situations and details, just have to be careful not to trod on anyone else's toes so I try to keep from writing in the actions of others in my zeal to push the event forward.

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