Vlad III, also known as Vlad the Impaler and Vlad Dracula, was the Prince of Wallachia who is best known historically for his resistance against the Ottoman Empire and its expansion, and for the cruel punishments he imposed on his rivals. In the English-speaking world, he is perhaps best remembered for possibly inspiring the name of the titular vampire from Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula.
The title "the Impaler" refers to his habit of having his enemies impaled upon stakes. The consensus among most historians is that anywhere from 40,000-100,000 victims were impaled during Vlad's three reigns as prince. It was also reported that in 1462, Mehmed II, the man who conquered Constantinople and was well-renowned for his own psychological tactics, was forced to retreat in disgust at the sight of 20,000 impaled corpses (many of them Turkish prisoners of war) outside of Vlad's capital.
Vlad was also a courageous man- he led from the front and never let his men do all the fighting. Although he is renowned for his cruelty throughout most of Western Europe, he is regarded as a national hero in his native Romania.
Once, Vlad had peasants and beggars, the lowest of the low, come to a big feast. When they were all drunk, Vlad asked if they wanted to never be hungry again. When they said yes, Vlad left and ordered his guards to burn the dinning hall down with all the people inside.
Battle vs. Genghis Khan (by SPARTAN 119)Edit
Genghis Khan led four other Mongols, three on horseback and two on foot, along a road into a clearing in a forest. From the other side, Vlad the Impaler, two Wallachian cavalry, a halberdier, and a hand cannoneer stood charged into the forest.
Vlad then drew his kilij and led the charge at the Mongols. A Mongol with a fire lance levels the weapon at a rapidly closing Wallachian cavalryman and fired, filling the Wallachian's chest with shot.
WINNER: Genghis Khan
Battle vs. Ivan the Terrible (by Goddess of Despair)Edit
Vlad sits down behind a small wooden table. Glancing to the left, he looked directly to the field of impaled victims. He cracked a smile and reached for a slice of bread, dipping it into a small container of blood.
Vlad brought the wheat to his mouth but before taking a bite he noticed a small group of soldiers moving into the field. Vlad rises, setting down the bread before motioning his troops to come to his side. Ivan looks upon Vlad and orders his men to stand side-by-side in firing position.
Ivan’s troops fired a volley of rounds at Vlad’s troops, the first hitting a warrior next to him in the head. The second shot hit Vlad in the side. Vlad was thrown to the ground as one of his troops fired a crossbow at the invaders, piercing a man’s throat.
Vlad feels his stomach. Fortunately it was a graze and as he stood a loyal soldier handed him a hand cannon. Ivan’s troops began to reload as Vlad and two warriors charged. Two of Ivan’s Streltsy set down their Pischals and advanced with Bardiches.
The second Streltsy hits Vlad in the chest with his Bardiche knocking him onto the ground. Before being able to give a finishing blow, another of Vlad’s troops rushed forward and decapitated the Streltsy with a slice from a Kilij.
Vlad gets to his feet again and the Streltsy unsheathes his Sablia. Vlad draws his Kilij and slashes high, but the Streltsy parried and counter slashed at Vlad, but his chainmail deflected the blow. Vlad punched the Streltsy in the jaw and, while he was stunned, slit his skull in half with a strike from his Kilij.
Vlad’s crossbowman fires another bolt downrange, but once again the wind carries it away from his target. Irritated, he reloads and moves closer to get a better shot.
Seeing his last soldier fall angered Ivan. With a roar, he charged with his Sablia. Vlad striked first, aiming for Ivan’s throat. Ivan parried and smashed Vlad’s nose with his sword’s hilt. Vlad sliced at Ivan’s chest, however he failed to cause any harm to the price of Moscow.
Ivan pushed Vlad back and slashed his hand, making him drop the Kilij. Vlad turned and ran for the hand canon as Ivan pursed. Vlad grabbed the weapon with his uninjured hand as Ivan prepared to decapate him. As Ivan raised his sword however, a bolt rammed into his shoulder. He roared in pain and fell to his knee. Vlad stood up and slammed the hand cannon upon Ivan’s head.
Minutes later Ivan joined his Streltsy in the forest of impaled warriors.
Vlad the Impaler won this battle. Although both warriors had the same armor, and Ivan had a more effective long range weapon, he couldn't keep up with the tremendous slashing power of the Kilij and the options of the halberd. Add that to his better mental health and Vlad triumphs.
Battle vs. Hernán Cortés (by Lachlan Blake) Edit
Vlad and five of his bodyguards had arrived in a tavern on a small Island off the coast of Spain. This island was small but important, housing many assassins and thieves that could be hired for their services, which was what Vlad needed them for, there was a prince that he needed removed and the assassin he was looking for was apparently the greatest alive.
“Your highness, the man we seek is sitting in the corner, shall we greet him?” said one of the bodyguards. Vlad turned and looked at the guard with a strange expression. “Well, what do you think?” he said.
“Excuse me your highness?”
“What do you THINK?”
“I think you should decide sir” the bodyguard said quietly. The group approached the assassin’s table and Vlad sat.
“Are you the Spanish assassin I seek?”
“Yes, but my services have already been purchased by another Spanish man, he needs me in the New World” Said the assassin.
“Who is he?” “I think I’ve already given too much away, friend”
Vlad stormed out of the tavern. He would have the assassin killed, but first he was going to kill the man who had somehow hired a killing before he had. There was only one Spanish man he knew that would be here, Cortes. A few weeks later Hernan was taking a coach ride with five veteran conquistadors he had allowed to come back to Spain.
“It is so nice to be back home is it not my friends?” Said Cortes. “Yes sir, it is much better than those hellish jungles” Said a conquistor.
The coach suddenly stopped. “What is this, driver?” said Cortes.
Suddenly, a cannon ball shot through the door, leaving a massive hole in the coach and the conquistador on the other side of the coach, he was grasping at the organs and ribs the were visible through the gaping hole in his abdomen.
The conquistadors exited the coach after pushing the corpse out onto the ground; the horses were lying dead with crossbow bolts in their heads. The Spanish men stood behind the coach and one was ordered to look around the side. The man peered around the corner; there was Vlad the impaler and his guards, standing across the path in the forest.
“THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?” yelled Vlad. A conquistador pulled out his arquebus and lay down to look underneath the coach, firing a shot into the group of Wallachians, the lead ball hit one of the guards in the head, making him fly backwards into the bushes.
Vlad ordered the guards to charge, and so did Cortes, the two groups clashing in the middle of the road. Cortes and Vlad stood back, watching the guards and conquistadors fight. A Spanish longsword cut through the chainmail of a guard, slicing off his arm.
A bodyguard stabbed a conquistador in the face, but couldn’t pull the sword out, and was smashed on the head by a poleaxe. The last bodyguard was holding a halberd and swung it, puncturing a conquistador’s armour and his lungs, leaving the final conquistador to run, but a bolt flew into his head, Cortes had shot into the fight, killing Vlad’s final soldier.
Vlad took his sword and shield and ran into the two conquistadors, laughing hysterically as he did so, stabbing the first conquistador and swinging his shield into Cortes, who was trying to reload his bow. Vlad had to stop to pull the sword out of the Spanish man’s body, and Cortes took the chance to smash him over the back with his buckler.
Hernan stumbled and ran to the coach and frantically tried to find his arquebus, but Vlad was not far behind, holding his crossbow, he shot Hernan in the leg, making the man scream in pain, Vlad turned the conquistador leader over, pulling out his kilij.
“It is time you die, Cortes” The sword flew down towards Cortes, Vlad intended to cut the man’s chest open, but the Spanish armour stopped the sword. Cortes took the chance and kicked Vlad over onto the ground, where his unprotected leg was punctured by the cannon victims jagged ribs.
Vlad screamed in agony and tried to get up, but the rib was stuck in his leg, then he saw Cortes appear from the coach with his gun. Without a word he shot the dark prince, and then began the walk down the road to the nearest village.
Cortes won because of his more effective armor and his true battlefield experience against a determined foe.
Battle vs. Rajput (by Quitekaiser) Edit
The begins in a dark European forest. Vlad is walking slowly, looking for any enemy invader. The Rajput is walking at a quicker pace, he was uncomfortable in this forerign ground, even though he had been here for at least a month, he much prefered the warm pleasant lands of his native India. Vlad, spotting the Rajput, begins loading his crossbow, as the noise warns his opponet.
The Rajput closes in, coming close within range for his chakram. Throwing the disk with as much force as he could muster. The disk hit Vlad's armor with force, but his armor protected him from the disk, and it bounced off. Finishing the loading process, Vlad lifts his crossbow, and shoots it at the Rajput, and hits the Rajput directly in the abdomen, right over a plate. The bolt didn't force through the plate, but did stop the Rajput in his tracks. Vlad grabs his Halberd, and exploited the element of suprise for a wild lounge to kill his fierce enemy. The Rajput grabs his Tabar and counters Vlad's attack, and for several moments, they circled around each other, trying to hit a weak point.
Twisting the hook around the Rajputs polearm, Vlad pulled the the tabar away from its wielder, and was about to brain the Rajput. When the Rajput rolled away, and grabbed his Khanda. Begining the deadly twist, the Rajput charged Vlad. Using the Halberd to block, Vlad droped it, forcing the Rajput off balance.
Running away at top speed, Vlad disapears into the forest. Swearing the Rajput set about searching for Vlad. As the Rajput jogs past a bush, from which Vlad jumps out, and fires his Hand cannon. The round grazes the Rajputs shoulder, forcing him to drop his Khanda.
Desperately, the Rajput throws a Chakram at Vlad, atempting a neck shot. The Chakram again bounces off of Vlads armor as he closes in. The Rajput pulls his Katar out, as Vlad draws his Kilij. Vlad dodges the first three punches, and pushes the Rajput back with a strong slash with his Kilij. The Rajput tries to launch onther offensive, but is stopped when Vlad picks up his Hand cannon, and uses the spike. The spike goes into the Rajputs leg.
Refusing to give up, the Rajput kept going, and stabbed his Katar into Vlads gut. The katar hardly passed through, but a series of follow up blows completly ripped out Vlads organs. With one final punch, Vlad lay at the Rajputs feet, dying. Smiling, the Rajput screams as loud as he could, and walked away from the body.
WINNER: RAJPUT WARRIOR
Expert's Opinion Edit
The Rajput won out because while he didn't have the better weaponry he was much better trained and physically fitter. Vlad's insanity worked against him as it made him do reckless and stupid things.
Battle vs. Richard the Lionheart (by Cfp3157) Edit
Richard has abadoned the Crusasdes. He has now begun a campaign to capture all of Christian Europe. His armies tear throguh France, Germany, and now he begins fighting in Wallachia. At the moment he is laying siege to Bran Castle. The siege has been going on for a month now, and Richard is on a hunting trip in the Wallachian forest surrounding the castle. Vlad has, unknowingly to Richard, escaped and is running with five soldiers to fight another day. So now the battle is set.
"Wonderful shot William!" Richard yells as he pulls the arrow from the deer his best archer has just killed. "If you wanted, you could kill me in from 100 yards away in my own castle!" he exclaims. "If you say so, your majesty. But not one person no not one person would want you dead. No sir, not one soul in all of England." he says. As one of the Crusaders slings the corpse over his back, the three men walk back to their camp for the hunting trip. "Why, how was your catch your majesty?" one of the Crusaders asks. "Just fine, John, just fine. Allen, get this here meat and cook us a good meal!" Richard orders one of the Crusaders.
Vlad and his five soldiers watch the scene unfold. Vlad nods and his two crossbow begin loading while the had cannon stands by. Allen starts to skin the deer when he hears a strange sound. He looks and sees the six men watching them. "Aye! Who do ya think you are?" He yells at Vlad. The noble snarls and nods to his hand cannon. As the Crusader draws his broadsword, the soldier lights the match and the bullet enters Allen's head.
"To arms men! To arms!" Richard yells. As one of the crossbow soldiers finishes reloading, William aims his longbow and the arrow quivers inside of the man's chest.
The hand cannon soldier quickly drops his empty cannon and shoots the Steel Crossbow. The bolt soars through the air and penetrates deep into William's eye.
As the men charge at each other, John takes his Battle Axe and charges at the other crossbow man. He drops the slow weapon and attempts to draw his Kilij, but it is to late as the Battle Ax brutally splits the man's skull.
John turns around to see Vlad coming at him with his Pike. As he takes the ax out the Wallachian, Vlad makes his name true as he thrusts the Pike deep into John chest and impales him on it.
Another Crusader swings his Mace at the hand cannon soldier. The man keeps dodging the Mace and then strikes the spike into the man's skull.
"My God, these men are barbaric!" the last Crusader yells. "Take heart, Jack. We'll pull through." Richard yells back. He then ducks a swing from the hand cannon soldier and then bashes his skull with his Mace.
Just as quickly the Crusader parries a Pike and hacks off the Wallachian's head with his Broadsword.
Vlad quickly dons his shield as he faces the last Crusader. The Crusader swings with his Broadsword, but Vlad blocks it with his shield and cuts the man throat. But he doesn't let him go down easy. Vlad thrusts his Kilij so deep into the man's chest that almost all the clip point is prodding from the man's back.
Richard wayches all of this in horror. "My God! You are a man without God!" he yells. "Are you scared, Richard?" Vlad sneers. He then withdraws his Kilij and literally starts to suck on the blood. "I am a terrible man, and so you will die a terrible death." Richard charges at him, but the last Wallachian gets in the way. He thrusts his Pike, but Richard blocks it with his shield and smashes his skull with his Mace.
Vlad yells loudly and starts to hack with his Kilij. All the strikes land on Richard's shield, and Richard just stands there to take it. Finally, he just sidesteps to the right and tears Vlad's Achilles tendon. As Vlad falls down, Richard whispers in his ear, "May you enjoy hell, you dammed soul," as he places the Broadsword behind his throat. Vlad just laughs. "I have no soul." he remarks and Richard thrusts the sword to the pommel through Vlad's throat.
Richard looks at all the carnage around him looking at the body of Vlad, William with the crossbow bolt in his eye, poor John impaled on the Pike, and Jack, who stands lays there, practically disembowled. Richard drops to the ground and begins to sob as he looks at the true colors of war.
The reason Richard won was simply becuase of his much calmer battle state. Even with Vlad's seemingly important technological advantage, he was just to insane to cope with the better leader, Richard.
Battle vs. Godfrey of Bouillon (by Impaler5150)Edit
Vlad attempts to kill Godfrey so he could take over the Crusades , but Godfrey survives and pursues Vlad. Vlad hides behind a tree and fires the already loaded crossbow at Godfrey, but missed. Godfrey fires his crossbow, hitting Vlad in his left arm. Godfrey snatches his halberd and pursues Vlad, who now has his halberd and they dueled. With neither gaining aniu edge, Godfrey kicks Vlad away, with Vlad retreating once again. Vlad sheathes his kilij while Godfrey sheathes his longsword, both men parry before wounding each other. Godfrey thrusts, but misses, then Vlad slashes, but not inflict damage. Godfrey grabs his Godfrey grabs his knightstarand swings it at Vlad. Vlad collapses to the ground, but Vlad grabs his hand cannon from behing the treeand swings it, catching Godfrey in his calf. Godfrey, being wounded, tries to run, but Vlad shoots him in his right arm. Godfrey collapses, knowing he was defeated, tries to convince Vlad to repent. Vlad, laughs sadistically, impales Godfrey.
Expert's Opinion Edit
Vlad won due to advncements in technology, his armor was better, and his hand cannon was the more superior long range weapon.
Battle vs. Vasco Núñez de Balboa (by GSFB)Edit
In a pleasant meadow shaded by dark trees, Vasco Nunez de Balboa walked with four conquistadors and seven dogs. Among them was Leoncico, a mastiff/Spanish greyhound mix who followed Balboa everywhere, often licking his hand. Balboa petted him, rubbing his hand on the dog’s scarred face.
He looked back to the path, smiling as he thought about his discovery.
“Mar del sur. Mar del sur. The name itself evokes wonder.” Balboa said, smug as he considered his incoming fame.
“It is a great wonder, senor, a new ocean. Not even Cortes could claim such a prize.” Another conquistador said.
Balboa stopped. He turned to the Conquistador.
“Not even Cortes...Indeed. But dont say such things out loud. He still has many friends, and such lose talk could incur their wrath. I want to end my life on a deathbed, not on the chopping block!”
“Yes, senor Balboa.”
“Now, onto other matters....”
The men started walking again. Leoncico started to look back and forth, for a moment thinking that he smelt something.
“What of that strange ship our men saw just off the coast. Any word on it-
Leoncico and the other dogs halted, growling. The men froze.
“What is it, boy?” Balboa said, looking where Leonico was staring. Suddenly he understood.
With a whirling hand Balboa signaled to his men to move off the path, surrounding whoever, or whatever, was waiting for them. Before they could respond, they heard someone whisper in a Romanish toungue. An arrow flew past Balboa, penetrating two feet into a nearby tree.
“We’re under attack! We’re under attack!” Balboa said.
He ducked and ran into the jungle with another conquistador, followed by Leoncico and two other war dogs. The other three Conquistadors moved to the right, circling around the site of ambush. The remaining dogs, Greyhounds and surly Spanish Bulldogs, didn’t leave their sides.
They heard whispers and the sound of footsteps. The Conquistadors turned.
“Arquebuses!” one of the three other Conquistadors whispered. As they reached for their guns, three Wallachian troops suddenly appeared. Two held hand cannons, one a crossbow.
“Fire on the wretches!” Someone unseen said, in a deep, flowing voice that frightened the Conquistadors.
“Aim!” One of the Conquistadors said.
Before they could fire, the Wallachians pulled their triggers. The dogs leaped at the Wallachians, each taking a bullet . The bolt from the crossbow struck the lead Conquistador, hitting him in the shoulder. He fell, clutching his wound.
“Fire!” The wounded Conquistador said, snapping the arrow. The others fired, felling two Wallachians . The third dropped the crossbow and fired his handcannon, but an incoming Greyhound took the bullet . Another, coming from behind, jumped on his back. The Wallachian threw it off and ran him through with his kilij . Meanwhile, the Conquistadors fled behind several boulders, reloading their arquebuses. Grunting, the Wallachian ran over, a sword in his right hand and a flanged mace in the other. As a Conquistador rose to fire the Wallachian struck him in the chest with the mace, knocking him down. The Wallachian turned, finding an arquebus barrel an inch from his nose. He froze, dropping his weapons. He looked at the barrel, and then at the Conquistador who held it. As the Wallachian closed his eyes, the Conquistador smiled, pulling the trigger.
The Wallachian stood motionless for a moment. Then he opened his left eye, looking around him and then at the confused Conquistador. The Spaniard looked at his gun, grinding his teeth.
The Conquistador threw the weapon down in disgust, drawing his sword. Realizing what happened, the Wallachian picked up his weapons and charged. The Conquistador swung with his espada ropera. The Wallachian blocked it with his Kilij and struck the Conquistador on his forearm, breaking it. The Conquistador screamed, dropping his sword in pain. With a twist the Wallachian took his head off .
“Taste steel, senior!”
The Conquistador with the wounded shoulder rammed his halberd into the Walachian’s belly, pining him to the Mexican earth. He looked into the Wallachian’s eyes as he died, smiling wickedly, enjoying a view he often saw in the new world. Shaking his head, he checked on his comrades, seeing of he was okay. He turned and drew his sword as a wicked laugh came from deep within the jungle. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. ...
Five hundred feet away, a Wallachian soldier stood guarding near another path, listening nervously to the gunfire and the screams of men. His king was out there, only heaven and the enemy knowing what had become of him. He wondered when, if ever, he should leave all behind and split, making the long journey back to the Persephone, Wallachia’s only warship. He wanted to leave, now, thinking that his prince and men were lost, but he knew well the price to be paid for desertion, especially when under fire.
“Another tree for the forest of the impaled,” he whispered.
A twig snapped.
The Wallachian turned to the noise, lifting his crossbow. A bearded, hulking man in plate armor, emerged from the forest. As he raised the crossbow to fire, the big man knocked it out of his hands and slapped him to the ground.
“Filthy swine!” the big Conquistador said, readying his halberd.
The Wallachian, wild eyed and filled with adrenaline, jumped up and took his halberd from a nearby tree. The Conquistador walked towards him with his halberd. The men fought for thirty seconds, until the big Conquistador knocked the weapon from his hands.
The Wallachian pulled out his Kalij.
“Trying to fight me with a steak cutter, no?” The Conquistador said. Laughing, he ran to stab the Wallachian. With astonishing speed, the Wallachian jumped, twirled, and slashed the big man’s throat. The Conquistador put his meaty hands to his throat, trying to breathe. Calm and unconcerned, the Wallachian soldier put his sword back in his scabbard and walked away, letting the Conquistador die alone .
Something stirred in the bushes. The Wallachian stopped, drawing his sword again. Other bushes around him were starting to shake. The Wallachian looked around him, waiting for what he thought were men to attack.
“Fight me, now! I will show you as much mercy as I did that giant over there, bleeding like a stuck pig!” The Wallachian said.
He heard a growl. Other growls followed.
“Wolves. A whole pack of-
Before he could finish, Leoncico leaped from the nearby bush, biting down on his face. The other war dogs, large mastiffs, pounced on the Wallachian. Balboa turned and walked away, laughing as the dogs tore into their victim .
“Where is Balboa?” the Conquistador with the wounded shoulder said, wincing with pain. The other followed behind, struggling with the heat and humidity under their oppressive armor. The men listened, holding onto their halberds tightly. They eventually came to a crossroad in the path, each direction covered in thick mist. There was something in the center of the crossroad, a dark shape cloaked in the dying mist. It didn’t move, didn’t speak. The Conquistadors approached.
“Senor Balboa?” The wounded Conquistador said.
“Hello, dear guests. Welcome to the crossroad. Please do come in; you look like men of good... taste.”
The Conquistadors froze at the familiar voice. The mist cleared, revealing Vlad the Impaler, his head down and his hands on the hilt of his sword. Snickering, Vlad raised his head, revealing a face of malice and unbridled barbarity, conveying a cruel spirit few of their fellow Conquistadors could rival.
“Shall we sup?” Vlad said, tapping his sword with his right index finger.
“Attack!” the wounded Conquistador said, raising his sword.
Vlad threw his cape back, pulling out a sword and a mace. He blocked the overhead strike of the wounded Conquistador with his kalij, striking the man’s head with his mace . The other conquistador charged with his halberd.
“Oh foolish Spaniard. Did they not tell you ?”
“There is only one impaler..”
Shaking his head, Vlad leaned down to kiss the dying man on the head. Before he walked away, he dabbed his finger in the man’s wound, licking the blood. His eyes rolled with sick delight, relishing the taste.
“And I thought I was demented.”
Vlad turned, seeing Vasco Nunez de Balboa standing next to a dying tree, his sword already drawn.
“Demented? You have no earthly idea.”
Vlad dropped he halberd, readying his sword.
“About time I fought a fellow sword swinger, no?” Balboa said, readying his stance.
For the next two minutes the warriors dueled. Vlad was cut three times, once on the chest and twice on the face, a cut on each cheek, while Balboa suffered a cut to his left leg and arm, the latter bone deep. Eventually Vlad blocked an overhead strike and countered with a kick to the gut. Though protected by the plate armor, Balboa was knocked down, and as he brought his sword up to defend himself, Vlad turned and knocked it out of his hand with his Kilij. Laughing, he put his sword to Balboa’s neck.
“Well fought, Spaniard...” Vlad said, licking his blade, “but few, if any, can challenge the Lord of Wallachia. The Ottomans learned this the hard way. Such a pity; if only we were back home. I could add you to my growing...forest...” A growl came form a bush behind Balboa. Vlad looked up from Balboa, seeing two yellow eyes in the bush. He didn’t move, preparing to strike.
“Your dog has given itself away. Too bad. Now you will both die- Suddenly two large mastiffs charged Vlad from the sides. Wide eyed with surprise, Vlad whirled, slashing both mastiffs in the face . At the moment he turned back Leoncico leaped, knocking Vlad down. The sword fell from his hands.
“Now, who is going to die, senior?” Balboa asked, laughing as Leoncico tore into his foe.
“You know, that was an odd thing to do, licking my blood off your blade. You act like some Vampire of legend.”
Vlad screamed, struggling in vain to force the far more powerful dog off of him. His voice was guttural, gurgling.
Balboa picked up his sword.
“I know those stories, very well. They tell of many things. Enlightening, I should say.”
Vlad was growing quiet. Leoncico’s growls drowned out his moans.
“Why, they even spoke of how to kill a vampire. I remember that most of all.”
“Pierce the heart.”
Leoncico shook his head. With a wet, breaking sound, Leoncico ran off, Vlad’s head in his mouth. Balboa watched him go with shock.
“...Oh, well, that was another way to do it...”
Though Vlad had more experience and a two to one melee advantage over Balboa, Balboa had superior firearms, armor, tech, and, most importanly, the war dog. The pack gave him numerical advantage and the ability to sniff out danger, thus keeping them from being surprised.
Battle vs. Gilles de Rais (by SPARTAN 119)Edit
Vlad: 100 Gilles: 100
An army of 100 Hundred Year's War-era French soldiers led by Gilles de Rais sat at their camps, sitting around campfires. It was late in the evening. Suddenly, there was thunderous roar and a flash of fire from the forest to one side of the camp. Several Frenchmen were cut down as hand cannon balls and crossbow bolts struck them. Some were killed instantly by headshots, while others fell the ground, screaming in pain as they clutched their wounds.
Vlad: 100 Gilles: 89
After the initial volley of fire, Vlad himself raised his sword, leading ten cavalrymen on horseback, followed by the remaining 90 infantry. The soldiers cut down the few surviving, shaken and wounded survivors of the volley. Soon, however, they realized something was wrong- the camp they attacked was not the main camp, but a small outpost.
From the woods surrounding the camp, the crunching of armored feet under leaves, the pounding of hooves, and shouts in French were heard. A flash of fire blazed out of the forest as several hand cannons discharged with a loud bang. Nine of Vlad's men were cut down by a flurry of shot and crossbow bolts, before the main French force charged in, Gilles de Rais himself leading the charge from on top of his horse.
A few Wallachian gunners and archers got off shots, but they were quickly overrun by the French infantry and cavalry. Those that were not struck down by sword or polearm retreated behind the Wallachian infantry, who formed a wall of halberd points. The French cavalry parted their horses refusing to enter the forest of polearms.
Gilles led the small group of French knights to charge the flanks of Wallachian formation, only to be met by a similar-sized group of cavalry led by Vlad himself. A French knight tried to charge the Wallachian prince, but the Son of the Dragon swung his kilij, scoring a lucky hit to the gap between the gorget and helmet and cutting them man's throat.
The two cavalry forces then kept going and made a run at each other's infantry, however, they were quickly forced to turn back and face the enemy cavalry. There was also a limit to how much damage to scant few cavalry men could do in the face of so many infantry. The French suffered slightly fewer casualties than the Wallachians as more of them had plate armor.
The battle had devolved into a shoving match between two masses of infantry, with the two cavalry formations attempting to hit the flanks, but being forced to break off to engage each other. Soldiers on the front lines of each side grappled at close range. Men on both sides died in most brutal manners, as daggers slip into gaps in armor and polearms pulled them to the ground and then cleaved through armor.
While both sides suffered heavy losses, the French, with their superior armor began to gain the upper hand, driving a wedge of men into the Wallachian line and splitting them in two. At the same time the French knights overcame most of their Wallachian adversaries. One who stubbornly remained was Vlad himself.
Vlad charged straight at the French leader, trying to make a cut at him, but the blade had no effect on Gilles' thick plate armor. Making a second run, Vlad lunged at Gilles, forcing him from his horse. Even if he did not survive this battle, he was taking his foe with him.
The Wallachian prince slammed the French knight against the ground and attempted to drew his dagger and finish him off. While he did so, however, he did not see a French soldier, who broke off from the rear lines to help their leader. The soldier thrust his voulge into Vlad's back, The Impaler was himself impaled.
Vlad coughed up a mouthful of blood as he looked down to see the blade protruding from his chest. The Wallachian prince's body went limp and collapsed on top of Gilles. Tossing aside the enemies remains, the French soldier called out, "Sir, are you OK?"
Gilles got back up and responded, "Oui".
As Gilles and the surviving French knights turned to face the infantry battle, the saw the Wallachian lines begin to break apart. Men in the rear ranks turned and fled in full retreat.
"Cavalry! Ride them down, kill them all!", Gilles yelled, ordering his remaining six cavalrymen to charge after the retreating Wallachians. All told, of the 100 Wallachians, only 43 escaped the battle alive.
Cheers of "Vive la France!" erupted through the victorious French army.
WINNER: Gilles de Rais
Gilles de Rais won this battle thanks in large part to the fact that French, with their greater wealth, had more men equipped with full plate armor (whereas chain mail was more common among the Wallachians), greatly increasing their survivability. Other factors included his great deal of experience in the Hundred Years war, and the greater versatility of the longsword in close combat.
Battle vs. Joan of Arc (by Impaler5150)Edit
Battle vs. Henry VIII of England (by Impaler5150)Edit