Nicknames: Blågult (The Blue and Yellow) WWC Appearances: 8 Best Finish: Runners-Up (2003) Fifa Ranking: 9
Introduction
World Cup regulars Sweden look to challenge the very best this year in France. 4 years on from a disappointing Round of 16 exit, the squad look far more experienced going into this tournament. Results since 2015 have been a mixed bag, eliminating the USA on their way to a Runners-Up finish at the Rio Olympics, losing to subsequent champions Holland at the second round of the Euros, and then having an excellent qualifying campaign that saw them finish 5 points ahead of rivals Denmark. Sweden should have no problems with Chile and Thailand if everything goes to plan, but it will be the clash against the US that will really test their mettle. Cause another upset for the Americans like they did in Rio and the Swedes will most likely have a much more favourable Round of 16 match up. After that? I wouldn't say a semi-final appearance is impossible. With teams on the continent like England, France, Netherlands and Spain beginning to emerge as serious contenders in the last few years, Sweden will need a strong performance to prove they are still amongst the sport's royalty.
Manager and Squad
Coach: Peter Gerhardsson Goalkeepers: Hedvig Lindahl, Jennifer Falk (Kopparbergs/Göteborg), Zećira Mušović ( Rosengård) Defenders: Jonna Andersson (Chelsea), Linda Sembrant (Montpellier), Hanna Glas (Paris Saint-Germain), Nilla Fischer (VfL Wolfsburg), Magdalena Eriksson (Chelsea), Amanda Ilestedt (Turbine Potsdam), Nathalie Björn (Rosengård) Midfielders: Lina Hurtig (Linköping), Kosovare Asllani (Linköping), Julia Roddar (Kopparbergs/Göteborg), Caroline Seger (Rosengård), Anna Anvegård (Växjö DFF), Elin Rubensson (Kopparbergs/Göteborg) Forwards: Madelen Janogy (Piteå), Sofia Jakobsson (Montpellier), Stina Blackstenius (Linkoping), Julia Zigiotti Olme (Kopparbergs/Göteborg), Fridolina Rolfö (Bayern Munich), Mimmi Larsson (Linköping), Olivia Schough (Djurgårdens IF)
Sofia Jakobsson An excellent goalscorer for Montpellier, Jakobsson is quick and creative. In Gerhardsson's system that favours wide play and quick transitions from the back to playmakers into the penalty box, she is an important part of the Swedish machine. Over a 100 caps at 29, she's consistently been an important part of the team, but missed the last Euros with injury. Caroline Seger A playmaker with physical prowess and the occasional goal in her, Seger has seen multiple semi-final and runner-up finishes at the World Cup, Euros, and Olympics in her 193-cap international career, and yet no winner's medal. At 34 this is possibly Sweden's captain's last chance at victory. Seger was a part of the stacked team at Lyon before turning to Rosengård, and is still an exceptional player. Hedvig Lindahl Sweden have arguably one of the best keepers of the century in Lindahl. After 4 excellent years at Chelsea she remains the top choice for the Blågult, even if there are younger and more athletic options. She excels at organizing her defence and is still a decent shot stopper. 3 years ago she blocked an Alex Morgan penalty, she will no doubt frustrated American strikers here too.
Points of Discussion
Getting the ball into the box won't be the problem, it will be scoring With players like Jakobsson and Seger, Sweden can be effective at playing forward, finding space out wide or in the penalty box effectively. However it's forwards have been less effective in getting the ball into the net. Jakobsson, Asslani, Blackstenius can't be wasteful, and players like Schough and Rolfö also need to deliver. Defensive flaws? A 2-1 defeat to Germany in April highlighted defensive issues with Sweden. Space between their high defensive line is vulnerable, and they may struggle to defend set pieces too.
Nicknames: Team USA, USWNT, The Stars And Stripes Women's World Cup Appearances: 8 Best Result: Champions (1991,1999 and 2015) FIFA Ranking: 1 Flag FA Logo
Introduction
The USA Women's Soccer Team are currently defending World Cup champions after destroying Japan 5-2 in the last finals. Dominant and evergreen they are hoping to retain the championship for the first time in their history. They have also never finished lower than third in the entire history of the Women's World Cup so they are a force to be reckoned with. With a straightforward group anything less than 9 points would be seen as a disappointment. They should reach the third place playoff but with either Germany or China alongside the hosts France to deal with and without the usage of Hope Solo they could falter for the first time but I would bet on them reaching the Semis.
Manager and Squad
Manager: Jill Ellis (USA) Goalkeepers: Alyssa Naeher (43 Caps, 0 Goals), Ashlyn Harris (21, 0) and Adrianna Franch (1,0) Defenders: Becky Sauerbrunn (155, 0), Kelley O'Hara (115, 2), Abby Dahlkemper (37, 0), Ali Krieger (99, 1), Tierna Davidson (19, 1), Crystal Dunn (83, 24) and Emily Sonnett (31, 0) Midfielders: Sam Mewis (47, 9), Morgan Brian (82, 6), Julie Ertz (79, 18), Lindsey Horan (66, 8), Rose Lavelle (24, 6) and Allie Long (42, 6) Forwards: Mallory Pugh (50, 15), Carli Lloyd (271, 107), Alex Morgan (160, 101), Jessica McDonald (7, 2), Megan Rapinoe (150, 44), Tobin Heath (147, 28) and Christian Press (113, 47)
POTENTIAL STARTING XI
(Taken from their last match against New Zealand) Naeher; O'Hara, Dahlkemper, Sauerbrunn, Dunn; Lavelle, Ertz, Horan; Heath, Morgan, Rapinoe.
Players to Watch
Carli Lloyd A legend of the women's game. Will be the main source of goals for the squad. Lindsey Horan Can do just about anything when it comes to attacking. Will make the assists and occasionally score some herself. Tobin Heath She is also an attacking dynamo for this squad. Will win games and change the tide of the game.
Points of Discussion
Was it wise bringing an old squad with them? With only 4 members of their squad 24 years or younger with a whopping 11/23 of them 30 years or older will they be able to keep up with the younger generation of footballers playing. Will they be able to even reach the semi finals? As previously mentioned if they win their group they will face either Germany or China and then France who are premier sides in the Women's International Games so will they be able to beat France or will they falter for the first time ever in the history of the Women's World Cup?
Chile’s women team is young but not that much anymore, created at the beginning of the 90s (the opposite to the men’s, who has existed since the early 1900s). In the almost 30 years since that start, it is only in recent times that it has grown to the point of becoming a known team for the average Chilean. Their first ever participation in a World Cup will surely increase that interest. Their best participation in the women’s Copa America was both at the very first edition where they participated (1991 in Argentina) and the last one (2018 in Chile), both times getting the second place. At clubs, Chilean women’s football has been more successful. After the creation of the First Division in 2008, Colo Colo, the biggest club, won a Libertadores in 2012 and reached the final in 2011, 2015 and 2017. A lot of strong players have been bought from European and North American clubs, the best of all of them being Christiane Endler, goalkeeper of PSG and captain of the national team. Chile’s first participation in a World Cup will be a hard task. They will face the United States, Sweden and Thailand. In the Copa America they defeated Argentina, Peru and Uruguay, traditional rivals of the men’s team, with very good performances, but couldn’t do the same with Colombia and lost against Brazil. It is expected that Sweden and the United States will be rivals as strong as the Brazillians, if not more.
Manager and Squad
Coach: Jose Letelier GOALKEEPERS Christiane Endler - PSG Féminines (FRA) Natalia Campos - Universidad Católica (CHI) Ryan Torrero - Free agent. DEFENDERS Rocío Soto - Zaragoza CFF (ESP) Su Helen Galaz -Zaragoza CFF (ESP) Camila Sáez - Rayo Vallecano (ESP) Carla Guerrero - Rayo Vallecano (ESP) Javiera Toro - Santiago Morning (CHI) Valentina Díaz - Colo Colo (CHI) MIDFIELDERS Karen Araya - Sevilla FC (ESP) Claudia Soto - Santos (BRA) Francisca Lara - Sevilla FC (ESP) Ana Gutiérrez - CFF Cáceres (ESP) Yessenia López - Colo Colo (CHI) Elisa Durán - Colo Colo (CHI) Daniela Pardo - Santiago Morning (CHI) FORWARDS Yanara Aedo - Valencia CF (ESP) Yessenia Huenteo - CFF Cáceres (ESP) María Jose Rojas - Slavia Pragha (CZE) María José Urrutia - Associaçião Esportiva 3B Amazónia (BRA) Rosario Balmaceda - Colo Colo (CHI) Daniela Zamora - Universidad de Chile (CHI) Javiera Grez - Curico Unido (CHI)
Players to Watch
Christiane Endler The captain and best player of the team. Started in a small club but was quickly scouted by Colo Colo, team with which she became a hero winning the Libertadores final in penalties, where she stopped two. Was bought by Chelsea Ladies but at the end of her first season was diagnosed with a meniscus injury, so she came back to Chile to heal. After another season with Colo Colo she was bought by Valencia, becoming the best keeper of La Liga in her first season. After winning the Zamora Trophy, she was bought by PSG, being again chosen the best keeper of the Ligue 1 in the 18/19 season. With those credentials she comes to the Copa America. Carla Guerrero Experienced central defender who served until 2017 in Colo Colo. She is the player with the most titles in Chile, as she won 12 trophies with Colo Colo jersey and one with Everton (the Chilean one). In 2010, she first arrived to Colo Colo and played in that club uninterruptedly until 2018, year when she was transferred to Colombian champion Independiente Santa Fe. It was champion of the Copa Libertadores de América 2012 and also has the second place medals of 2011, 2015 and 2017. Last year she was bought by Rayo Vallecano, playing in La Liga. However, she suffered an ACL injury some months ago, injury that almost forced her to miss the World Cup. But she will play! Francisca Lara The 28 years-old is a multifunctional player who can play as a defender, midfielder and forward on the left flank. With 20 goals, she is the Chilean national team's all-time leading scorer. She won the 2012 Libertadores Cup and 10 titles with Colo Colo. Shs played last year as a starter at Sporting Huelva in Spain, before being sold to Sevilla this last season, where she's been known for her goalscoring ability. María José Rojas She is the most experienced Chilean when it comes top lay abroad. She’s a very fast forward on the right wing. She is the second highest scorer of the female "Reds", where she participates since the Guadalajara 2011 Pan American Games. She was the first Chilean woman to play in the Frauen Bundesliga, in Herforder SV. Playing for the UTSA Roadrunners, she scored the 2010 Southland Conference title goal in the fourth injury minute of her team's 1-0 win over Louisiana. She is also the first national to play in the Champions League, defending Lithuania's Gintra in 2017. With her move to Japan's Orca Kamogawa FC, she became the first Chilean to play in that country. Last year she played in Czechia’s Slava Praga.
Points of Discussion
Ball possession Due to Chile's small size, winning headers and physical game play isn't their strong suit. The coach has them make up for it by playing quick passes and controlling large chunks of possession throughout the game. Being able to control the flow of the game will be important if Chile are to win any games in a group with Sweden and USA, two of the best teams in the world.
WWC Appearances: 2 Best Finish: Group Stages (2015) Fifa Ranking: 34
Introduction
A second berth to the FIFA Women's World Cup was earned after a hard fought semi-finals finish at the AFC Women's Asia Cup. They went down to the wire and lost out to Australia on penalties. Good signs of improvement by the squad since 2015 and could potentially see themselves out of the group if they manage a win versus Chile and a draw versus one of the bigger teams.
Kanjana Sungngoen Her consistent goal scoring is the reason Thailand have qualified for the last two world cups. She's a key weapon and is both fast and experienced.
Points of Discussion
Same team different World Cup The Thais are the smallest team in the tournament and may suffer lots of problems against Sweden and USA's size. One thing they have going for them is that the team is essentially the same one that qualified for 2015. Almost a decade of the same players playing together is only a good thing for the Thai ladies. Realistic aims Thailand had two losses and a win in their first World Cup in Canada. And once again just being in the tournament is a success for the Thais. Getting past the groups isn't impossible, but improbable. Safe to say it would be miraculous if they get results against either of Sweden or the USA.
I throw open the door, wielding the water-jar from my room. I say, “Warrior, what...is...it...” My voice trails off as I see her! She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the weird skull in her lap. The warrior sits across from her at the edge of the bed. Both look up and stare at me. “I think I’ll come back later,” I say. I close the door. Feeling hungry, I walk to the front room. Some of the other prisoners are there, bartering for breakfast with the tavern owner. I set down the water-jar on the table. Sitting down at a carved wooden table, I look over at the tavern owner. The owner shrugs at the two former prisoners sitting at the other table and says he’ll bring them some food. He walks over to me next. The tavern owner says, “You came with the others, right? If you’re a bard or something, play a few nights here, and I’ll give you free room and board. If you’re a merc, you can help me with fixing the roof.” I shake my head. “I think I’m leaving today with the warrior...do you know who he is?” I ask. I forgot to inquire last night. He shrugs and says, “I don’t know. That warrior is not one of those mounted knights, nor your typical merc. Came in yesterday, asking about if anything strange had been happening. I told him that strangers passing through disappeared mysteriously in the night. He’s foreign, I think one of the southern countries. Might be Italian, not too sure on their accents. He speaks Polish pretty good, though. Anyways, he paid me well over double for two rooms. If you’re with him, I’ll give you breakfast on the house.” He looks up and goes back to the stove. What have I gotten myself into? The door closes. I turn my truesight gaze back to my slave. He’s still staring at the door. This requires some delicate persuasion. I say, “Ahem, slave. If you wouldn’t mind, I am still held captive by this harlot!” The harlot giggles. “That’s fine, Simone,” she says, then holds me up. My slave grabs me and sets me back on the nightstand. He says, “You may travel with me, but only if you follow my rules.” She nods in agreement. “First rule. No dragon shapeshifting. You stay as a girl. I will dispatch you if you are anything other than a girl,” his eyes are intense. He may have gone insane, but at least his dedication to his blasted Order’s code still applies. Her face contorts to a pouting expression but nods again. “Second rule. No stealing or looting.” Her jaw drops. Then she closes it and squints at him. She nods again, this time with more animation. “Last rule. Stay back and let me do my work. You don’t interfere.” She nods in agreement. Her meekness disturbs me. I must be vigilant. I will not befall the same fate as that old coot. “Slave, let’s think about this, shall we? She’s a dragon. The harlot invaded our space to tempt you,” I say. He stands up and begins donning his armor and gear. My slave says, “Simone, we have nothing to fear. I am steadfast in my faith. If she wanted to kill me, she could have while I slept. Besides, we need a new servant anyway. The last one ran away after seeing the orc-band.” Impudent and incompetent. Sigh. I turn my truesight gaze to the harlot. She’s watching him don his equipment. I will have to keep my gaze on her, not that I mind. There’s a notable shortage of pretty wenches around here. After donning all his equipment, save me. my slave says, “What’s your name?” She opens her mouth to speak, then pauses, thinking. The harlot must not want to reveal her draconic name. Dragon names are informative to their bloodlines. Yet they're complicated and hard to pronounce for humans. I never could figure out the tones. Her eyes light up with excitement, and she says, “I like the name Perla.” Polish for pearl, huh? If she’s going for a metaphor, I don’t like it. I posit, “How about Eris instead?” The harlot personifies the Greek goddess personifying chaos, discord and strife. My slave raises an eyebrow at me, then says, “We’ll go with Eris Perla since she should have a full name.” He goes to pick me up. Oh no, not the backpack! This is humiliating. Awww. I have a name! Eris Perla. It sounds pretty. Simone fits the skull, sort of. I think it’s Italian. What’s Simone’s original name though? Nevermind that. What’s Warrior-Man’s name? Warrior-Man sticks his pet Simone into the backpack. He walks over, opening the door, then stands there. Looking over to me, he says, “Are you coming?” “Oh,” I say, and hop up. I walk out. He follows me out then moves down the hall to the front. I haven’t actually seen the front room before. Curious, I follow behind him. We enter the front room. Oh, they’re all here. I wave at my prisoner entertainers and say, “Hi boys.” They turn to look at us, then jump up in their chairs, recoiling from me. How rude. I fed them and kept my hoard room warm enough. There’s a boring-looking local human man, standing behind the counter. He turns to see the commotion and raises an eyebrow at us. This tavern must be his domain. I’ll call him Tavern-Man. I smile and say, “good morning.” Warrior-Man pulls out a chair at the table Pretty-Boy sits, motioning me to it. He grabs an empty chair at another table and sits down at the table with it. I sit down in the chair he pulled out for me. Pretty-Boy reaches for his water-jar, his eyes wide as saucers. Looking up, I see the rest of the room, consisting of my entertainers and some villagers, are still staring at me. Tavern-Man walks over to us, eying Warrior-Man and me. “I don’t recall any women going missing.” Warrior-Man replies, “Bring us breakfast, same as Jaroslaw. We’ll leave afterward. Where did you store my horse and wagon?” “I put the wagon out back behind the building. The horse is in the stable. My boy fed him already since I figured you’d be leaving today. Oh, did you kill the dragon or whatever it was?” I scowl at Tavern-Man. Warrior-Man pauses, then says, “The dragon won’t be bothering you anymore.” Pretty-Boy’s eyes dart to Warrior-Man, then back to me, then back to him. Then he says, “Will she be coming with us?” “Yes, she’s my new servant,” says Warrior-Man. Pretty-Boy looks down at his plate and mumbles, “Perhaps I was too quick to thank the Father and the Holy Spirit.” “We left the village. Let me out already, slave!” I shout. The backpack slides forward, I clink against the potion bottle again. His hand reaches in under the flap and picks me up. Oh no. Not her. He holds me out to the bed of the wagon, and the harlot gingerly grabs me. Oh, cobblestone. It’s still morning. The weather is cold, the sun glistens on the snow and the open wilderness surrounds us. I hate Polska. Where are the vast cityscapes emulating Rome? Nowhere! I’ve come down in the world. The harlot looking at my eye sockets, resting me on her knees, speaks, “Simone, were you always a skull?” Her voice seems seductively sincere. This disturbs me. I reply, “Obviously not. I was the greatest wizard Evropa has ever seen. Nobody before or after me can compare. Not even that old coot! He purely leeched off his student who became a king.” Her eyes widen with curiosity. “If you were the greatest, how did you become...like this?” Painful memories come to mind. I say, “Even I must admit, I made a slight misstep. Some wannabe Roman showed up with an army. He claimed he was the new Emperor of the Roman Empire. I said he must be kidding. The Empire fell 300 years before. No, I don’t count those eastern knockoffs. This ‘Emperor’ told me to stop my perfectly legitimate studies into the arcane arts. I told him no.” The clueless landowner’s son, sitting diagonally from the harlot in the wagon bed looks up. “Wait, do you mean Emperor Charlemagne?” he says. I say, “Yes, that one. Turns out, I was the one kidding myself.” “Quiet.” The word cuts through the air like a knife through butter. My slave stops the wagon. He points to the landowner’s son, Jaroslaw, motioning him to move up. Jaroslaw takes the reins. My slave steps off the wagon, drawing his falchion. With his other hand, he pulls up his cloth mask over his mouth and nose. Then he slides out a grenade from his belt. The harlot casts her gaze around, before settling on my slave. Hmm. We’re too far west for an orc warband. It’s too cold for a griffon. We should have the only dragon in this region accounted for. I begin scanning with my truesight. My slave suddenly dashes forward to the left. He’s heading towards a patch of trees and bushes. He chucks the grenade forwards. Ah, must be bandits. Bet they didn’t expect that. Peasants. You don’t hunt the hunter. The grenade pops, its insidious green vapor sprays out, forming a hideous mist. The figures, hidden in the snow-tipped bushes and branches, start coughing. Three, no four of them. Amateurs. They’re too close together, nor did they hide on both sides of the road. My slave flows into the mist. The dance begins. The first bandit brings up his spear too late. The second, carrying a short bow, cannot stop coughing. He falls without a fuss. The third, brandishing an axe, despite coughing, raises it to strike. Too slow! He falls. The fourth, he’s a wily one. He ran out of the green mist immediately. Wielding a crudely smithed sword, he must be their leader. The surviving bandit defensively postures. My slave emerges from the mist before the last bandit. He exhales, having held his breath in the fog. Staring at the bandit, he inhales. The peasant looks nervous. My slave's breaths are calm and deep, while the bandit’s breaths are quick and shallow. They’re no more than 10 feet from each other. The bandit turns and runs. There’s no escape, peasant. My slave in one fluid motion, with his left hand, pulls his francisca throwing axe from its back holster. He chucks it forward. Its heavy iron head embeds itself in the bandit’s back. He falls forward. My slave walks up to the downed man, now crawling. He pulls the bandit up by his coat and ends his suffering. The boorish landowner’s son looks towards my slave in awe. The fight lasted less than 15 seconds, including the pitiful escape attempt. My slave loots the corpses of their weapons. He calls to the landowner’s son to carry the weapons to the wagon. “I forgot to ask, but what are you?” I ask the warrior. He seemed so foreboding last night and this morning that I didn’t want to ask. It also doesn’t pay to question someone who rescued you. While wiping off the blood splatter from the captured crude sword, he says, “I’m a venandi of the Ordo Viginti.” I say, “Hunter? Order of the Twenty? I don’t believe I am familiar with that military order.” He doesn’t reply. The ‘hunter’ wraps the sword in cloth along with the other captured weapons. The spear’s tip he breaks off, taking it but leaving the shaft. We resume our travel, leaving the bodies for the birds. Ordo Viginti, huh? What are there twenty of? We ride in silence, even the dragon in human form, ‘Eris Perla’ says nothing. She seems to be thinking. The skull’s silence makes me nervous. I felt more at ease when it talked. I don’t know who I’m more afraid of, the hunter, the dragon or the skull. The stars are pretty. Warrior-Man and Pretty-Boy, Jaroslaw, set up camp after traveling all day. We’re near the river, halfway frozen. The humans call it the Skawa River. I don’t like it. Something feels off when I go near the ice-covered water. Regardless, I need to cook dinner. Warrior-Man has a simple cooking set, so I make a stew. I mix in some preserved meat he provided. This human is better equipped than most of my prisoner entertainers. Pretty-Boy sits and stares into the fire, eating his stew. Warrior-Man sits with his back to the fire and eats. “Do you like it?” I ask while sitting on my knees next to him. The French prissy used this pose often. “Yes,” he says, between mouthfuls. That’s...something. I need to try another approach. Never have I put so much effort into bending a man before. “You have a name for me, so what’s your name?” I ask in a soft voice, trying to sound demure. He pauses eating, setting his spoon back in the bowl. He says, “Angelo di Dio.” Italian! I knew it. But that’s an odd name. I tilt my head and say, “Angel of God? Why did your parents name you that?” Angelo says, “On Christmas eve, I was placed in the foundling wheel. It’s a large barrel with a hole in it. Someone outside of the church placed me inside it. Then they rotated the barrel, shifting me into the orphanage. The nuns named me on Christmas Day.” I sense the sadness in his voice. He resumes eating. I look at him. Abandoned human children, even left with other humans, seldom live this long. Nor do they become so formidable. Just as with my true name, there’s a story to his name. I just wonder what. I clean up the cooking. While I finish, he ties a thin cord around our campsite, keeping it taut just off the ground. It’s invisible in the dark, but I can see it glisten. It’s enchanted, probably an alarm or a trap. Warrior-Man, or Angelo I should say, sets Simone next to him and goes to sleep in his bedroll. Pretty-Boy, or Jaroslaw, goes to sleep at once upon laying on the ground. Angelo gave me a blanket. I cover my legs with the blanket and look at the sky. The stars are pretty. Oh, cobblestone. I must keep watch, so I can’t meditate tonight. The harlot doesn’t seem to be going to sleep. She’s just staring at the sky, thinking of ways to corrupt me. Silly wench dragon, thinking she can use my slave as a ruse. What's this? The harlot stands up and turns her gaze towards the river. She starts walking towards it, away from camp. “Hey, slave, wake up,” I whisper while following her with my truesight gaze. What’s she up to? There’s a splash from the direction of the river. I turn my truesight towards the noise. It’s another woman? No, it can’t be. No sane human would swim in this weather. It must be one of those annoying things, rusalki, I think the locals call them. They’re hateful water spirits that like to drown men. If my slave could resist the harlot, then this shouldn’t be an issue. Perhaps the rusalka will take that annoying landowner’s son instead. My slave quietly stirs, reaching for his sword scabbard. He whispers, “Where and what?” The rusalka, her hair, and skin tinted green looks dangerously desirable. She wears a dress and decorated her hair with flowers. Using her arms, she props her body up against the ledge in the river. There is a patch of clear water forming an island around her in the ice. The harlot approaches the rusalka, stopping 20 feet before the water’s edge. “We have a guest. River’s edge. A rusalka, water spirit. Your harlot went to greet it,” I elaborate. The harlot and the rusalka stare at each other. The harlot says, “Leave this place before you anger me.” The rusalka slides back into the water and swims away. “The rusalka left. It would seem your harlot has staked her claim on us,” I say.
Working at a casino was not exactly #lifegoals. But it was better, I reflected, as I glanced down at my scratchy pink poodle skirt and ankle-grinding roller skates, than being a waitress at a Fifties theme restaurant. Anything is better than working at a theme restaurant. Believe me. If you hear ‘Fifties restaurant’ and start dreaming of Uma Thurman and John Travolta dancing with wild abandon, stop it. Tarantino lied to you. It’s just screaming children and drunk tourists, all the way down. Which was why, when my Friday morning shift in that hell finally ended, I shrugged back into street clothes and left for my interview at the Grand Imperial Casino with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I’d hoped that by my twenty-fourth year of life, I’d be interviewing for something a bit more ambitious than blackjack dealer at the newest addition to the Las Vegas strip, but at this point I’d take what I got. The bus ride downtown was boring, so I’ll break here to introduce myself: my name is Mika. Well, technically, my name is Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez. But that’s too long even by Mexican standards, so go ahead and call me Mika Rosario, because that’s going to save us both a bunch of time. Yeah, you think YOU hate going to the DMV. Anyway, today was going to be my day. I’d traded shifts with one of the other girls who owed me a favor and put up with the desperately sad crowd that wanted to eat breakfast surrounded by bored actors dressed up like extras from Grease, because this afternoon was important. This afternoon was my ticket out of the world of waitressing, even if that ticket only took me a few blocks down the road. No more poodle skirts, no more roller skates, no more children competing to see who can snort a milkshake through their nose, no more teenage boys leering at my cleavage until their eyes fell out. I mean, I was applying to work at a casino, so I was pretty much just trading those teenage stares in for a whole new set, courtesy of a horde of middle-aged middle-managers in from the Midwest for a convention on midsize sedans, but at least it was a change. My boobs were looking forward to the variety. So, there I was, sitting in a massive ballroom at the Grand Imperial with about four hundred other people, waiting for my name to be called. It was a nice ballroom, if nothing else, with real white linens on the tables and carpet that didn’t look like they stole the design from a Dixie cup in 1997. It ought to be nice, though, since the newspapers claimed that this place had cost over a billion dollars just to build, never mind the cost of buying out land on the Strip. All the more reason to get my foot in the door here. If this Robbie Mo guy that came in from Macau to set up the Grand Imperial had that kind of money to throw around, then there had to be a way for me to work my way up through the ranks to where I’d get some real cash. And no more roller skates. “Me-gall-nita… Rose-mario?” The call came at last and I sprang up, smiling as broadly as I knew how and ignoring the way the guy with the list butchered my name. They could call me Mud, for all I cared, so long as they got me away from Big Donny’s Roller-Diner. The first few rounds of the mass interview were easy, to be honest. Out of all those hundreds of people massed in the ballroom, the Grand Imperial people eliminated three hundred with a simple test as to whether or not they even knew how to play blackjack, let alone deal professionally. Most of them, apparently, couldn’t even count to twenty-one. I breezed through that round, and the two that came after it. I’d been slinging blackjack since I was eight, when my dad first set me down and made me help him practice counting cards. Carlos Rosario was a ‘professional’ gambler. Professional, in the sense that it was the only plan he ever had to make money and support his family, and ‘professional’ in the sense that he lost more than anybody I’ve ever seen, no matter how he tried to cheat. Anyway, dealing was easy. I threw in a few flippy bits, flicking aces from one knuckle to the other before returning them to the shuffle, and dancing the spread back and forth before snapping cards out to my nonexistent players. It was simple stuff that any idiot could learn on YouTube, but the interviewers ate it up, whispering to each other like sixth-grade girls. It was round four when everything got weird. My first clue that I’d merged onto the highway to the crazy zone was when a man in a black suit asked me to follow him. He was tall and blond, super hot in a ‘my sense of humor was surgically replaced with a third fist’ kind of way, and he escorted me into an elevator made of mirrors without ever saying more than three words at a time. All the previous rounds of the interview had been held in partitioned temporary rooms on one side of that huge ballroom, but apparently those of us who made it to the final round got to see a nicer bit of the Grand Imperial. That was what I thought on the elevator ride, anyway. I had no idea exactly how nice the bit I’d be seeing was until I stepped off on the 50th floor and felt my jaw drop so far that it should’ve hit the floor. Gold. Enough gold to make the Pope blush, enough gold to buy out the king of Spain, enough gold to...I don’t even know. There was nothing I could think of buying, nothing that I could even IMAGINE, that required that much money. It was a lot of freaking gold. Hot Security Guy frog-marched me through Versailles 2.0 like we were walking down a blank concrete hallway instead of something out of Liberace’s nightmares, before plopping me down opposite the final interviewer. He was Asian, probably Chinese or Japanese extraction, middle-aged and friendly-looking, like his face naturally wanted to smile. Bit of gray at his temples, bit of extra padding at the belly, but it all seemed to suit him, like he’d been destined to be that way since he was born. Somebody’s kindly grandpa, except he wasn’t old enough yet. He didn’t say much as I ran through my dealing routine, which didn’t exactly make me happy. A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck the moment I picked up the deck set on the desk between us, a bead that turned into a river, that turned into Niagara Falls by the time I was done. I pulled out a few extra tricks at the end, flashy little flips that I wouldn’t usually dare try with anybody watching, even palmed a joker into the deck and spun it out face-up, but it was like trying to get blood from a stone. Friendly Grandpa’s smile never so much as twitched, for good or bad. Finally, I couldn’t take it. “Look, that’s what I’ve got,” I vented, cascading the deck back together and slapping it down on the desk. “If you’re looking for more...frankly, I don’t know who the hell you’re looking for. Four rounds of interviews, for a job dealing blackjack? That’s just stupid.” Uh oh. There it went, then. My chance to bust out of the land of pink poodle skirts and greaser jackets. Great job, Mika; all you had to do was keep your mouth shut and flip the cards, but you had to let your temper get the best of you. Then the interviewer finally spoke. “Do you know who I am, Miss Rosario?” I gulped. “My new boss?” I suggested lamely, mustering up my best plucky smile. “My name is Mo Ka-Fai,” he informed me, as I felt my blood turn to ice. “Most people around here call me Robbie.” Robbie...Mo... Robbie Mo. ROBBIE FREAKING MO. AKA the guy who owned the casino I was sitting in, plus half of the Mirage and who knew how many more in Macau. The news hadn’t stopped talking about how stupid rich he was since they first broke ground on the Grand Imperial. “Oh,” I squeaked. So I hadn’t just mouthed off at my interviewer and tanked my chances of getting the dealer job, I’d insulted a man who could literally blackball me from the entire city of Las Vegas if he felt like it. That was bad. “Sorry.” “I didn’t tell you that to spook you, Miss Rosario,” Mo announced, a sentiment that did nothing to unfreeze my spine or untwist my stomach. “That wasn’t the point. The point was to let you know that you are dealing with the person who makes decisions. A serious person. Somebody who is not in the business of making jokes or playing pranks. Is that clear to you?” I nodded like a bobblehead doll. He wasn’t telling me to leave, at least. That had to mean I was still in the running for the job...right? “Good,” he continued. “Jason, bring in the kittens.” He gestured over my shoulder towards Hot Security Guy, as I felt my brow knit in confusion. Had he just said...kittens? What? Lo and behold, the kittens were...actual cats. HSG disappeared behind a side door, only to reappear a moment later with a cardboard box full of mewing little fluffballs in at least a dozen colors, two or three tiny heads peeking above the lip to see what was happening. The box was deposited at my feet, whereupon two dozen curious eyes blinked up at me. “Um,” I managed, my eyebrows raised so far I felt like they were going to get lost in my hair. “What?” “Close your eyes and pick a kitten, please,” Mo requested. I just stared at him. “I am aware that it sounds absurd, Miss Rosario. But this will all make sense in a moment, if things are as I suspect.” I stared at him for another long moment, then shrugged. I liked cats just fine, and he still seemed to be considering me for the job, so...why not? Eyes closed tight, I leaned down and worked my hands into the pile of kittens. A few nips and playful scratches later, I managed to snag one of the fluffy little things and lift it up away from its siblings. I opened my eyes to see a pure black fuzzball sitting in my palms, staring at me with eyes as gold as the extravagant walls. He blinked a few times, looking around to see where the rest of his family had gone, then curled up with his tail over his eyes. Mo breathed in sharply, and whispered something in a language I didn’t know, eyes widening. “Black,” murmured Hot Security Guy. “It’s black.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, exploring new depths of confusion. “Here, you want to hold him?” HSG backed away like I’d offered to shoot him in the kneecap. “N-no!” he yelped, then cleared his throat. “I mean, no thank you, Miss Rosario. Please continue the interview.” “The straws,” hissed Mo, as I turned back to him. “Bring the straws!” Jumping like he was scalded, HSG disappeared back into the side room and came back with a large, blue porcelain vase bristling with...were those drinking straws? They were. Long red plastic straws, like the ones that you got at the movie theater Slushee machine, with a little spoon on the end so you could scoop up the ice bits. There were tons of them packed into the vase, so tight they barely even rustled as Hot Security Guy placed it next to the kittens. “There are one thousand straws in that vase,” Mo told me, as if that weren’t an utterly bizarre thing to say. “Each one has a number printed on the end, one to one thousand. Do you understand?” I nodded again, scratching the black kitten’s head absently. I was this far into what was comfortably the strangest job interview of my entire life, no point arguing over a vase full of straws. “Good. Choose one, and read me the number, please.” Dutifully, I shifted my new fuzzy friend into my left hand while I reached down with my right and wormed a nail into the forest of straws. It had to be some kind of eccentric rich guy thing, testing people with kittens and straws before he hired them, I decided. “Thirteen,” I recited, reading off the tiny black number punched into the end of my straw. Hot Security Guy literally backpedalled away from me, while Mo looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Thirteen?” he breathed. “Are you certain? Out of one thousand straws, you picked thirteen?” “Yep,” I confirmed, laying the straw on the table for him. “One-three. That makes thirteen to me.” The kitten in my hand started to stretch and mew, pawing for the top of the desk and obviously yearning to explore. I lifted him up and let him clamber out of my palm, since Mo seemed more interested in staring at the little number on the straw than actually interviewing me. The one percent is freaking weird. “Right, Miss Rosario,” Mo finally breathed, shaking himself away from inspecting the straw and seeming to collect himself. “Right. Yes. Thank you for bearing with us. I have one more test for you.” This time, instead of sending Hot Security Guy to fetch, he reached into the drawer of his desk and produced an finely carved set of ivory dice in a plush black velvet box. “Roll them, please.” I didn’t move. “I’d rather not,” I hedged. “I deal cards. I don’t gamble.” That was my rule. Ever since I was eleven, ever since I’d watched my father walk out of the house with all the money we’d saved for my mom’s chemo and come back with empty hands, that had been the rule. I don’t gamble. Ever. “I am not asking you to gamble, Miss Rosario,” Mo countered. “There is no money on the table. Just the dice. Roll them, please.” My jaw locked up and my fingernails bit into my palm, but I forced myself to reach for the dice. There was no way I was going to avoid ever touching a set, if I intended to work in a casino. And Mo was technically right; I wasn’t betting on anything and there was no money at stake, so it wouldn’t be gambling. Just a roll of the dice. Breath caught in my throat, I picked up the dice, shook them once, and then dropped them like a poisonous snake. A brief clatter, and then they came to rest, one pip glinting from each face. One and one. Snake eyes. “Two,” breathed HSG. “She rolled a two. She actually rolled a-!” “Quiet, Jason,” Mo snapped. “Again, if you please, Miss Rosario.” He collected the dice and passed them back across the desk to me. The corner of my lip twisted in distaste, but I nevertheless accepted them, shook, and cast. Two pips stared back at me. Snake eyes, just like before. “Again.” Take, shake, roll. Two pips. Snake eyes. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” I demanded. “First you make me go bobbing for kittens and pick out a Slushee straw, and now you’re making me roll a loaded pair of dice? Does this have anything to do with me dealing blackjack?” “The dice are not loaded,” Mo stated, grandfatherly smile all but gone, now. “Inspect them yourself. And then roll, again.” I retrieved the dice and rolled them through my fingers, weighing them against each other, and then froze. An electric tingle ran up my spine and down to my fingers, as I realized that Mo was on the level. I knew what trick dice felt like in my hand; my dad had made me test out the sets he carved in our garage. These were legit. Which meant… I rolled the dice, flinging them hard against the table. One spun like a top, fluttering about before finally tipping over with one pip to the sky. The other skated across the desk, nearly colliding with the adventuring kitten, and flew off onto the floor. Where it landed with one pip showing. Snake eyes. “Again.” Beginning to feel extremely freaked out, I did as Mo asked, taking a new pair of dice from him and casting them across the desk. Two pips. Snake eyes. “Again.” My hand shook all on its own this time, barely steady enough to hold both dice together. They toppled away from me, less a cast, and more a drop. It didn’t matter. Twp pips glinted in the light, reflecting the golden ornamentation. Snake eyes. “Again.” Again, and again, and again. Over and over, Mo made me roll the dice, and every time the result was the same: two pips. Twenty times in a row, I rolled snake eyes. Which was, mathematically speaking, almost impossible. “What the hell is going on?” I asked again, but this time I really, truly meant it. My voice was barely a squeak, choked by an iron bar lodged in my throat. “What does this mean?” “It means, Miss Rosario, that you are the unluckiest person alive.” I blinked. Even in the grip of an utter and complete confusion, I had enough of my mother’s pride left in me to be insulted. “Excuse me?” “Oh, I mean that very literally,” Mo said, standing up from his desk and sharply correcting his suit jacket. “You, Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez, are the most unlucky human being on the planet. And that makes you extremely dangerous.” “Dangerous?” I spluttered. “What do you mean, dangerous? How am I-?” “We do not have time for me to answer that question,” Mo interrupted, gesturing for her to stand. “Suffice it to say that there are those of us who play probability and odds like a musician plays his instrument. And we’ve been looking for you, Miss Rosario. Looking for you for quite some time.” I opened my mouth to demand more than that, or maybe to just sputter in wild confusion, but Mo steamrolled over me. “Jason, call ahead to the helipad and tell them to spin up the chopper,” he ordered tersely, glancing to Hot Security Guy. “I want to be wheels up in fifteen minutes. We need to go, now.” “Go?!” I snapped, finally untangling my tongue. “Go where?” “To meet with Lady Luck.”
Original prompt: the Three Mage-Sisters in... the Hunger Games Stories are quick to be written of cartoonish evil. Few are written of natural evil, of evil that has evolved from humanity to become everything that humanity opposes. Kindness warped to obligation. Love twisted to devotion. Justice hammered into cruelty. The natural evils that surround us all, lull us into complacency. To serve blindly without compassion. There is no antithesis to humanity more so than this. Yet, we bow our heads and do as told, because we were never taught otherwise, never asked clearly, never given a choice in the truest sense. That is a blessing, because it would despair us to see how pathetic we truly were. Compared to us, cartoonish evil is pure. It is unabashed in what it hopes to achieve and willing to use whatever means it feels justified using. Against the world, it is willing to take a stand and be. Starting from a single being, it looks at a mountain of challenges and says: I can do this. For all the pain and hardship, it holds on, refusing to go quietly into the night, refusing to go down without a fight, refusing to accept even death. That is, perhaps, why we so love stories of cartoonish evil, desperate to be told that such a force must inevitably fall to someone who wishes to maintain the status quo. There is always law and order in the end. No one speaks of who writes the rules, and for who this order benefits and who it takes advantage of. The important part is that the evil is defeated, and nothing of substance changes. In much the same way, Panem would never change, could never change. The rebellion had always happened so recently in everyone’s mind that to have another would be foolish. Every year, the reminder of what the cost had been played out. Justice that could only be described as cruelty, punishing those who never raised up arms as a reminder of how much worse it would be if they had. A brutal affair that saw twenty-six children ground down to a single victor, murdered by one another, and that ‘winner’ would be granted clemency and a lifetime of remembering what horror they had gone through. And yet, every mother, every father, could only be thankful that just twenty-five children was the price for their past sins, thankful that it wasn’t their child chosen, thankful they could turn the television off and pretend it didn’t happen. Though, some watched with eagerness, revelling in the blood sport for an animalistic thrill. If left to its own devices, such evil as Panem could last for a day or a century. Many such evils can even be immortalised in religion and tradition. However, the world is not a place where good or evil will be left alone for long. The quiet of the Capitol came late into the night, dawn only an hour away. That was not unusual, any cause for celebration good enough and few causes were as good as the tributes being picked. Bets were placed, toasts made. Lively discussions on who would win flowed alongside wine and champagne, comparing ages and builds and looks, little different to how they would talk of the racing horses. When the alcohol dried up, very much the lifeblood of the celebrations, they crawled back to their luxurious houses before they started to sober up. It was this quiet that was interrupted by a single word, spoken in unison by three beings of cartoonish evil, which would signal the start of a calamity incomprehensible. “Juh?” One of the problems those that wish to be good, to do good, face, is that no one is entirely sure what good is. While one person may talk in ideals, another may talk in reality, may use quality of life or happiness or agency as the targets. In general, good is understood as kindness. For someone of no importance, to be good is to treat family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, and even those they disagree with with basic decency and respect, and to help them in times of need. However, when someone has lived a cartoonishly evil life, it is not easy to know what good is. This is particularly the case when three such people devoted their lives to a cult that wished to summon a god-like being who would destroy the entire universe. “Ms. Zan, this isn’t PopStar.” Clad in robes with yellow accents, blonde hair fluttering from static electricity and a gentle breeze, the small humanoid called Zan asked, “Are you sure, Franny?” The air wavered around the third of the trio, her red hair like tongues of fire. “Does this look like the place that puffy pipsqueak would live?” “Cool it, Berge,” Zan said, then turning back to Francisca. “Well? What do you think?” Francisca, blue hair sparkling like ice, slowly turned on the spot, taking in the tall buildings that weren’t grimy but were awfully grey, as were the streets, and that was the sight—the landscape stretching but a block or two at most in every direction. Coming to a stop, Francisca looked at Zan and said, “Janno.” Though Flamberge laughed at her, Zan put on her thinking face and thought. It was a sight that continued to amuse Flamberge, while Francisca continued to look at their surroundings, picking out signs and whatever else there was to read. Eventually, Zan nodded her head. “We should go find Lord Hyness.” “Of COURSE you would say that,” Flamberge said. Zan clicked her tongue. “Because it is the only course of action that makes sense.” Before the bickering continued, Francisca spoke up. “Ms. Zan, I don’t think he’s here, is he? Wouldn’t he have turned up in the same place?” “Maybe… he ended up somewhere else because he’s more powerful than us.” “Ms. Zan, I don’t think that’s how it works. “I don’t think so either, but unless you have a better idea of what happened, let’s just stick to that.” Francisca finally stopped her looking, and turned to Zan. “Ms. Zan, we’re not going to try and summon the Dark Lord another time, are we?” The inner conflict showed clearly on Zan’s face, expression troubled. “Lord Hyness said we’re not, so we’re not.” Flamberge sighed. “What else can we even do, then?” “That’s what we were trying to get to PopStar for,” Zan said, idly flipping her hair with a hand. “We owe that mischievous marshmallow a debt and the sooner that’s done the less interest we have to pay.” Francisca frowned. “Ms. Zan, I don’t think these kinds of debts accrue interest.” “You say that, but if we let him call it in whenever he wants, who’s to say what trouble he might pull us in? Better get it out the way now, maybe help him move house or mow the lawn.” Nodding seriously, Francisca said, “Ah, I see.” Then, her frown returned. “Ms. Zan?” “Yes?” “Are we… good guys now?” Zan also frowned, the question so perplexing that her hair settled down until she came to a conclusion. “Well, we’re not bad guys, and we’re not normal, so we have to be good guys.” This news made Flamberge groan. “Good guys? So we can’t burn annoying people?” “I wouldn’t go that far,” Zan said, her hand rubbing her chin. “Kirby did try to murder us a little, didn’t he?” “Ms. Zan, we did start it.” “So then,” Flamberge said, perking up, “as long as they start it, we can—” While a metaphorical bomb had been planted the moment the three sisters appeared, it was only now that the match had been lit, flame close to the fuse. “Excuse me, girls, it’s far too late for you to be out. I’m going to need to escort you home.” If all the policeman had done was say that, this match may well have been blown out by the wind and the fuse gone unlit. But, he reached out and rested a hand on Francisca’s shoulder, and that was the last thing he did. “I’m not entirely sure if that counts as starting it, Berge,” Zan said with a wry smile, while Flamberge put away her sword. To her credit, Flamberge at least shyly mumbled as she said, “I didn’t want to take the chance.” Meanwhile, the policeman’s partner stood in shock, mind blank with fear, staring at the pool of blood, scent of burnt flesh thick amongst the stagnant air. And then, the part of his brain that had sat through countless hours of courses kicked in and he picked up his radio. So the fuse was lit.
Hunting. You can do this as soon as you have a real horse (or even a donkey). The best way is with three sets of javelins and a dawn ray (or a bow/sling and ride to the next hilltop, shoot, and ride). Goats, boar, wolves, and donkeys are slow. Deer are fast. You have to trick deer; you can't run them down unless you have a good riding skill and a really fast horse. If you kill a big herd, don't sell all the items in one city.
Trade. One of the best routes is silver, minerals, and stone from Wales back to England. Buy from VILLAGES, not towns. Generally, a good trade route will not take you all the way from London to Scotland. It's not worth your time. The profits look good, but ask yourself about profit/(time x danger).
Tournaments, like always. I will discuss tournaments shortly.
Prisoners. As always, prisoners are great for earning money. Prisoner management doesn't exist anymore, so holding prisoners is much easier. There are not any good nonlethal weapons that I know of, though, so don't rely on it as a main source of income. It is worth spending 50 gold to find a ransom broker, absolutely.
Looting villages can make you quite a bit of money. If you plan on looting them, don't bother making them give you stuff as well. It's not really worth the costs. I have heard that looting churches is cool as well but it lowers your favor with EVERY CHRISTIAN TOWN BY 8 so don't do it until you already have your enterprises up and running. That's a late-game strategy for quick cash.
Rules for buying and selling.
Don't sell everything to one city.
Don't start trading heavily until you have a companion with the trade skill.
Don't buy raw goods in cities unless you know what you're doing and you trade all the time to know what good prices are.
Perishables are not always good choices for trading.
SPENDING MONEY
Always keep in mind the rate of return when you invest your money into making money.
Buying horses takes a huge priority, especially if you're trading. Even donkeys help massively, and you will hardly notice the cost. I have never tried supply wagons, let me know how that goes. Even if you don't want to ride as cav, buy one for yourself. You need it for hunting, running through towns, and getting back to your side of the battle if you are alone and reinforcements are far away. Buy a horse.
Focus down on a single town to start your enterprises. Don't do twenty jobs for 20 people. One town at time, spend your trading money on the best RoR (usually wine press but you can't put one in literally every town or you will flood the market), and then move on.
Land tends to vary in price more than it does in payout. Always check the RoR, but as a rule of thumb only buy cheap land (like 2k or just over, don't do 3k unless the payout is really good). You also have to come back to the land to get your money. If you must buy land somewhere, buy it early game in the location you plan to finish your campaign. For most people that's Scotland.
I think that learning to read is required before you get to read books? In any case, don't buy it until you're ready to start reading books.
ARMOR
The best light armor (no penalties) is rawhide with some kind of positive modifier. Honestly, though, light armor is cool but it's ok to take a penalty.
Leg armor is normally important for cavalry. If you aren't on a horse, buy this last, and you probably shouldn't buy heavy.
Gloves are amazing in this mod, please buy some. And save to get a modifier or go to the mystic merchant. It's cheaper in the long run than replacing 5 pairs of shitty gloves among your companions.
ARMS
Shield choice is a little confusing in this game as some of the pictures are misleading. NEVER use a bad modifier shield. I don't care how poor you are. There are too many axes in this game for you to skimp. A good shield can also keep 10 enemies at bay while your reinforcements arrive (assuming you don't fall).
You might SAY you want to use throwing only, but that's before you get into a siege (either side) or fight against a defensive enemy. And throwing weapons will not save you in these situations. So let's go over pros and cons of the other ranged weapons:
Bow. Bow kind of sucks in terms of skills because you have to work on proficiencies AND power draw. This makes it hard to do both throwing (which is normally better) and archery. Bow best in native IMO, but not here. Don't bother. I also don't think it can be used on horseback very well in this mod. There are no Khergits in Britannia.
Crossbow. I haven't used crossbows, but it's like a slower, fatter sling with less ammo. It does not require a skill. I don't know what proficiency it runs off of.
Sling has the most ammo capacity I have seen (56 in one slot holy shit), and that makes it good for drawn out sieges. Slings (fustibalus is best I've seen) and their ammo are both cheap, and they're kind of like smaller crossbows. Your chances of finding sling ammo in the wild, though, are not so good. I'm not sure about accuracy at high proficiency, but you can certainly hit groups of people without issue.
Both crossbow and sling can be used alongside throwing. I recommend one or the other. I am personally using sling at the moment (but I don't always carry it).
Balanced Dawn Ray is the best spear I have found by far. It's a good investment, especially if you're cav. If you're a ground troop you might go for something smaller.
Sword and board is very viable. Learn to chamber stabs from shield+spear troops and you're golden. Make sure you pick up shields after your javelins run out or when your shield gets low.
Good swords include Scian Bone (if you like stabbing) or just "Sword" (though there are two varieties and one sucks). Rich Saxon isn't really worth it. Seaxes and 1H axes kind of suck. It's better (especially in this mod) to fight in large groups and circle the enemy than to try and break shields.
I have never used angons or franciscas. They're probably fantastic for small encounters (like bandits, mod quests, and so on), but I wouldn't advise them for sieges or huge battles.
2H axe is good for defending from sieges and perhaps in the quest encounters. That is because you can manage enemy throwing weapons fairly well in these instances. Hiding behind a wall and splitting skulls is a great maneuver (with backup) and a 2H axe can be really really good in 1v1. Don't take it to a field battle. Don't make it your first weapon.
I have never used torches. Let me know how that goes for you.
TOURNAMENTS AND ARENA
These are both good ways of making money early game. Arena is really important to get your proficiencies up and to learn to fight against modded shield + spear tactics.
In the arena, don't use shield and spear. Just don't. Never do that 1v1.
As far as I know there are no bows or throwing weapons in the arena. You will have to raise proficiencies in battle.
In tourneys, always bet money at the beginning. It makes you the most at the end. If you're poor, you can hold off at the end if you like.
Always tell your men to hold/follow and hold fire. Put them behind cover if you can. Stand in front of unshielded friends if you have a shield.
Make it your job to go around the enemy and attack from behind while your friends take their attention.
If you get stuck against a turtley spear user, remember that he literally can't hurt you as long as you are blocking stabs.
Don't fall for feints.
Try to circle and bait out strikes. You can hit after he strikes.
Don't stab. He may chamber it.
You MUST turn into your swings to hit before your opponent.
You can try chambering. Overhead is probably best.
If you get 2v1, you can roar with U (or is it B?) to scare them. Shield bash also works. Take out axes and swords first. Spears are hard to kill but easy to defend against.
FIELD BATTLES
Hold fire until they get close, then let loose. Archers have more ammo, so if you're good to micromanage then tell ALL to hold fire. At med. range tell ARCHERS to fire at will. At close range tell INFANTRY to fire at will.
Don't be too scared by anything but elite cav. They will likely die quickly because the AI sucks at using them, and horses aren't really all that tanky in this game anyway. Check your map to see if horses are incoming, form up on a hill,(!) and be ready at the back of your formation to finish him off.
You don't have to form up at the top of a hill. Forming halfway up protects you from the second charge from the rear. I like to form just behind the top, to protect from enemy fire.
You can also play hunter killer and take your horse to go kill and distract cavalry. I highly recommend it. Block until they are out of javelins and then spear them. Many cav units have no spears or don't use them. They are defenseless. Take a fast horse.
If the enemy is defensive, you can sometimes actually hit them with ranged without them doing anything. They may not have any rangers or they only have very few. Hide behind a tree or something, put your men behind the hill, and use all your ammo. Then charge them.
Things to do as cav:
Hunter killer.
Kill bannermen and enemy leaders. Be careful of the long banners. It's best to do this with javelins or to play dragoon and dismount, shoot, and mount up before they reach you.
Distraction. Run behind the enemy lines or break up an enemy charge. Draw fire, circle, and try not to die. When new enemies arrive, slow them down as well. Form your men up once they have finished killing the last wave and then retreat behind them. This is fun to do with an "honor guard" of a few companions or cavalry.
Cleanup crew. Look for enemies who are already engaged with one of your men. Slay them from behind. Sword is faster, spear is safer.
Go for archers. Single archers are easy pickings. Two archers is ok. Three or more and you need to be careful. If they are engaged with your troops, you can slaughter them with impunity. Keeps the pressure off your troops so they can just fight.
Things to do as infantry:
Don't actually be infantry, but a dragoon. Ride to location, drop off horse in some bushes, and mount up if you have to retreat or press on.
Roar to help your nearby troops. Press U or B, I forget. One is a buff, one pushes nearby enemies away.
Take an honor guard of heavy shock troops (preferably companions) and split from your main force to smash the side of the enemy force and circle them. Not usually advised when outnumbered. HIGHLY recommended in sieges (depending on location). This gets you lots of xp.
Fight with the main force. Don't charge until the last minute. Form up first, and then charge. Charging reduces deaths from projectiles, but it's best to stay in line.
Don't fucking get knocked out. It's really bad in this mod. You lose tons of morale and you can get wounds. Better to have an even fight or slightly lose and run away with your hide intact than to get knocked out. Don't get cocky.
DEFENDING SIEGE BATTLES
I haven't done a lot of sieges in Brytenwalda, and most of what I have done is actually defense. However, I have sieged most of Japan in Gekokujo and I sieged all of Calradia, so I'm experienced in general.
TELL YOUR MEN TO HOLD IN THE BEST POSITION. The worst thing you can do is die and let them charge over and over and get encircled over and over. They may have to fight their way to the position but it will drastically reduce casualties.
Pick off ranged combatants. You can bring extra ammo in lieu of a shield and just pick one up when you're out of ammo anyway.
Use the Nearby Soldiers command to split your archers if you need to. If you end up with too few infantry, go to the side of your archer line and quickly take a few soldiers to add to your infantry group.
Make a killing tunnel. Put the 60% of your infantry on one side, with you and 40% on the other. Elevate your archers or at least put them at the opening of the tunnel (defended by your companions group). Things will quickly go to shit logistically but getting a few extra safe kills in every wave is still worth it. After every wave, check the map and if you have time you can reorganize.
Check on your archers. If they are out of ammo, hurry up and add them to your (probably weakened by this point) infantry. It doesn't matter if they die, they have served their purpose.
Stay behind cover. Moving the killing tunnel back is totally worth it compared to the alternative of getting shot to pieces just to get a few extra melee kills.
PARTY MANAGEMENT
Don't bother too much with village reputation. You can do that in some core villages that you know you will base your empire in, but it's not a big deal. Persuasion makes up for it. By far.
Make sure you stack leadership and trainer on all of your troops. I think foraging may stack as well.
Go to fucking sleep once in a while. If you're a merc or independent, feel free to sleep two nights in a row. It's cheap. No skin off your nose.
Don't bother putting entertain on your own character (unless you're really speccing into it to become a bard or something I guess), but definitely put it on some companions.
Stop buying food in cities all the time. Sometimes it is cheaper in villages, and it's also easier to get to villages than cities. This helps you keep inventory clutter and weight down while keeping food variety up.
Invest in food variety, but only buy 150 sizes. It keeps your inventory compact.
If your inventory is full after looting, you may find goods at a nearby village that you want. You can probably lighten your load and make more money this way.
Early and mid-game, make selling prisoners a very high priority. When you have a town or fort to hold them in you can take them there instead.
Try to get mostly the same kind of recruits. This makes leveling them up easier. I won't explain why, just look up how trainer works.
Make sure all your companions have horses. Seriously. It makes you noticeably faster.
SKILLS
For the player:
Ironflesh is always good.
Power strike is mandatory.
At least 1 power throw is probably smart.
Shield is mandatory.
Athletics is good to put a few points into. AGI isn't a great stat in Brytenwalda though so I wouldn't make it a focus, especially if you use cav. You can "cheat" a point in athletics by using lighter armor that lets you run faster than everyone else.
At least 1 in riding is mandatory, but more than that really isn't unless you love cav.
Don't take any INT skills except for inventory management, trainer, and persuasion. Persuasion is amazing in this mod and it is mandatory.
Leadership is totally mandatory. Spec mostly into CHA just for this.
Power draw, weapon master, entertain, and trade all suck for the PC. Don't bother with them.
For the party:
You need someone strong in every party skill.
Ideally you want two squishies (I put them into a company called squishies) whose job is just to keep the party running. One of them is INT heavy, the other one is CHA heavy. They don't fight, and they go at the bottom of your party so they stay safe. They also wear the heaviest armor possible, carry the biggest shields, and wield spears. At the start of every battle and reinforcement wave press Backspace to see if your squishies have been added. Keep them out of the battle.
The others should all be warriors. Almost all their points should go into STR and AGI. You can add 1 point to CHA if it will get you to the next threshold (for leadership). A point or two in INT will also give you extra skill points, and it may raise the threshold for Training.
One of your warriors will also spec into looting.
Stack trainer and leadership on all of your companions. These take priority over warrior skills.
The best gear goes first to squishies (think of them as HM slaves if you play Pokemon), then to the warriors at the top. Gear flows down the chain from there.
DO pick up companions you can't keep in your party. Strip their gear and send them off immediately to speak of your exploits and gain you Right to Rule. When they return, get rid of them or send them off as spies if you like.
I don't know the point of giving bracelets or seducing. If you know, talk about it in the comments.
COMING SECTIONS I haven't played this mod enough to talk about empire management, climbing the career ladder, quests, naval combat, sieging forts/towns, troop choice, faction choice, or some of the weird mod options (like lairs and ambushes). If you know something about those, put it into the comments and I'll add them (while crediting you) in this guide and in the next one. It will probably take me a week or two to play enough to write the next guide. If you search my name on this forum, you might find some other guides I've written for Warband that I still think are pretty good. They're to do with native, multiplayer, and Gekokujo. Maybe ACOK too but I doubt it. Let me know if there is anything else I've forgotten!
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