I'm surprised that no one's ever done a crossover between TLBT and any of the Total War games. Seriously, there's a huge potential for some great stories to be spun in crossovers like this. Well, since no one else is doing it, I guess I will.
Now, just to let you know, this story is actually based off of the brilliant Total War fanfic that is "A Scotsman In Egypt". It's an AMAZING narrative-style Lets-Play by Jerusalem (yes, that's his name), a member of the Total War Forums. And it is one of the best fanfics I have ever read, period. Of course, since I'm basing this story of mine off of that (rather heavily, I might add), I just want to make this clear: I do NOT own the story "A Scotsman In Egypt". It belongs to Jerusalem.
Now then, as for a few details, "A Scotsman In Egypt" was originally a Narrative-Style Lets-Play of Scotland on the then-new Total War game, Medieval 2. Before you ask, the story was completed in late 2007, about 9 1/2 years ago as of this time of writing. And as for why it was originally called "A Scotsman In Egypt", and why this story of mine will be called "The Gang In Egypt"? Well, you're about to find out.
And like my "Vive La Grande Vallee" story, I would likely rate this one T+, that is, between T and M.
Come gather around, and hear my tale, for it is both an inspirational account of man and dinosaur's ability to work together and not only survive, but even excel, in completely alien surroundings...and a warning about all the horrors that one's inability to admit defeat can bring to the innocent.
In the year of our Lord, 1080, England was ruled by the mighty William The Conqueror. But in the North, Malcolm III ruled Scotland and pressed his people's position by irritating the English King, knowing that his attention was more wont to stray to France, and that if suitably prodded, Scotland could gain much from England in their effort to do away with the distraction.
And it was quite clear that this wasn't exactly a bad strategy either.
King Malcolm
Age: 50
Governor
Command: 4
Chivalry: 4
Authority: 2
Piety: 5
Retinue: None
Traits: Faction Leader, Aspiring Commander, Talent for Command, Religiously Minded, Skilled Bureaucrat
At York, in a rebel-held region separating England from Scotland, Edward and Edmund Canmore, sons of King Malcolm, and therefore, Princes of Scotland, were leading a large mixed army of Scottish men and Scottish Dinosaurs in a siege of the city. Edward, eldest, but young still, was a bloody-minded fighter who was quick to anger and famously impatient. Edmund was his younger brother, and he was smarter, but cursed with a reputation as an academic and a weakling. They were on a mission assigned to them by the Council of Nobles to take York, something that they didn't exactly like, as they didn't like anyone trying to order them about. Even then, they were just fine with going to battle, as they liked the thought of casting down hundreds of rebels, the scum that plagued many lands all over Europe, and were very often heretics.
However, something that had really fired them up, as well as all of their fellow Scotsmen that were with them today, was that one of their spies had snuck into the village beforehand, and found that, in York's prison, there were five dinosaur hatchlings, one longneck, one threehorn, one swimmer, one flyer, and one spiketail, and all quite young, maybe only 5 years old, that were locked in a cell with very little food or water, and whom the rebels often abused just for the hell of it. It turned out that they were fellow Scots whose families had probably been killed by the rebels, and they had then been kidnapped and imprisoned.
Edward, Edmund, and their army had all been enraged by this piece of information, as in Scottish culture, dinosaurs were considered equals of humans, and not even the bloodiest-minded of the Scots would even think of mistreating HATCHLINGS like this. So when the time for the assault came, the Scots were all too ready to play merry havoc with the rebels. The rebels tried their hardest to at least stand a chance against the enraged Scottish, but they were very quickly swarmed and hacked to pieces, as they had been stupid enough to not think about building walls. In fact, the "battle" of York was so quick that it only lasted a few minutes.
After the battle was over, Edward had the hatchlings brought to him.
"Bring em here, lads." Edward ordered Angus and Rory, two highlander cousins in the army, the former currently holding the longneck and the threehorn, and the latter holding the swimmer, the flyer, and the spiketail. The two highlanders had broken into the prison that had been holding the hatchlings, and had brought them out.
"Aye, sire." Angus and Rory complied, and set the hatchlings down in front of their prince.
The hatchlings all seemed quite frightened, and Edward was expecting that, seeing how young and how small they were compared to him, and how they had been imprisoned and mistreated by the rebels.
"Well, ye wee laddies and lassies have had it rough, have ye?" Edward asked them.
"Aye...we have." The young longneck shakily answered, his voice outing him as a boy.
"We've nae family left..." The young threehorn added, her voice telling Edward that she was a girl. "They were killed by these...these monsters that ye've just beaten."
"Well, then," Edward decided, "perhaps I can raise all five of ye as my own. I'm gonna bloody need to learn how to be a father, and I dinnae know if I'm gonna have a born son or not, so perhaps if I raise 5 bairns, I'll have plenty of options for heirs."
"But Edward, they're dinosaurs!" Edmund told him in a worried tone. "I don't think that the nobles are going to like that-"
"Bah, who cares about that rubbish." Edward cut him off. "What's more important, Edmund..."
Then, Edward got off his horse and, with some effort, scooped the hatchlings into his arms, and held them up all at once.
"...is that, today, these wee ones are part of the Canmores." Edward finished.
"Wait, what's going on?" The young threehorn asked. "And who are ye, anyways?"
"Who am I?" Edward chuckled. "Well, I am Edward Canmore, prince of Scotland, and I've adopted ye 5 as my sons and daughters today."
"Hold on, ye're a prince?" The green young swimmer in his arms, a female judging by her voice, squeaked, floored by this revelation.
"Aye, and the heir to Scotland, at that." Edward confirmed. "Ye have a problem with that?"
"Nae, we dinnae..." The young longneck responded, accepting the prince as his new parent. "...father."
At this, the Scots around them raised a loud cheer, thrilled that there were not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE new members of the Canmore family, the family that was the royals. There wasn't going to be much of a problem with finding heirs in the near future.
After this, and after a well-deserved sacking of York, Edward and Edmund returned to Edinburgh with Edward's new adopted sons and daughters (who were nephews and nieces for Edmund). Along the way, the two had decided on the names that the hatchlings would have: the young longneck, who was a brown male, would be named Tristan, after the hero of the tale of "Tristan and Isolde"; the young threehorn, who was a yellow-orange female, would be named Boudicea, after a Celtic queen who lived 1000 years ago, and who's rebellion against the Romans cemented her as a hero in Scotland; the young swimmer, who was a light green female, would be named Kayleigh, which meant "warrior"; the young flyer, who was a brown male like the longneck, would be named Murdoch, which had the meaning "protector"; and the young spiketail, who was an olive green male, would be named Robert, which meant "bright", as Edward and Edmund assumed that he was smarter than he looked, despite the fact that he was the youngest of the hatchlings, and didn't talk.
Additionally, alongside this, the Council of Nobles had eagerly rewarded the two princes with donations of money.
However, despite all of these good things, when they got home, Edward and Edmund's mood had changed from the earlier heady celebrations of a triumphant return home from a well-fought victory (Edmund's first firsthand experience with war) to melancholy. And on a night soon after, the two of them, both heavily drunk, discussed the "mission" they'd been given. The hatchlings, who were resting on Edward's bed, were still awake and listening in on the conversation nearby, sometimes even joining in, as they had picked up on the mood, and didn't feel like sleeping either. Not that Edward or Edmund minded this at all.
"We're Princesh of Shcotlan," Edward snapped angrily, "Nae bloody erran boysh!"
"Who th... who the heh are they tell ush what tah do!" Edmund agreed, then raised himself up high and lifted his arm imperiously, speaking in a mocking falsetto. "Aye, be gooh ladsh now, an fetch us a Yorksh!"
Edward stared at Edmund with wide eyes, then burst into laughter. He thumped the table and wiped tears from his eyes as Edmund slumped back into his seat, head buzzing and a wide grin on his face. The hatchlings were surprised to find themselves giggling at the joke, despite the fact that York was the place they had been imprisoned in.
"Da...Dadsh losht it," Edward grunted finally, after gaining control of himself, "Finksh hesh sho sma...sho smart, playsh all the anglesh, buh wha he don...wha he dinnae geh...wha it ish..."
"ECSHACTLY!" Edmund cried, standing up.
"YESH!" Edward roared, leaping up himself and staggering backward as he almost lost his footing.
The hatchlings were eagerly listening in now. They wanted to see what their father and uncle wanted to do. They were not disappointed in the slightest by what they heard next.
"We...we shoul be Kingsh!" Edmund proclaimed.
"Huh?" Edward muttered, struggling to get his treacherous fingers to wrap around his mug's handle, "Nae, I'm older, I getsh tah be King firsh."
"That's nae fair," Edmund sulked, dropping back down into his seat.
The hatchlings could tell that this was a problem, because this was a really good idea that their father and uncle had going, but sibling bickering could ruin it. Luckily, Tristan jumped down from the bed and stepped in.
"Well, why don't ye both be kings?" Tristan suggested. "That'll make it easier to handle a kingdom."
"...oh, alright then, lad, we'll both be Kingsh then," Edward accepted his dinosaur son's idea begrudgingly, then paused to think for a moment, "...Kingsh of where?"
The next day, Edmund woke with a pained groan, clutching his sore head. He sat up in his bunk and swung his feet around to the floor, then hauled himself up with a loud belch. He swayed and cursed whatever ale they'd drunk last night, so potent that even now it seemed that the floor was rocking and rolling like a...like a...like a boat!
Staggering out of the cabin sick to his stomach, he stared in horror at the SEA surrounding him, and the coast far to his left. He clutched the rail to keep his balance, and felt his belly roll once more as he looked back to his right and saw another Scottish ship sailing parallel to them, and just like his own, that ship's decks were lined with soldiers!
As Edmund was looking around, he noticed his nephews and nieces, Tristan, Boudicea, Kayleigh, Murdoch, and Robert, sitting near the mast, and upright, like a human would, and it was clear that they were enjoying the sea breeze.
"King Edmund!" his brother's voice laughed, and he twisted around to see Edward staggering towards him with a drink in one hand, probably more ale, and a sloppy grin on his unshaven face.
"King? Edward, what the hell is going on!?" Edmund cried, clutching at his head as a bolt of pain shot through it.
"We're on our way, Edmund!" Edward laughed, apparently no worse the wear from a night's drinking. "Ye came up with the plan last night! We're going to make our own Kingdom, we grabbed our forces from York, made up some crap about a secret mission to get a couple of boats, and we left Father behind to deal with the nobles and England and arranged marriages and all his own crap...we're going to be Kings!"
"Kings?" Edmund spluttered, aghast. "Kings of where!?"
"I asked the same question last night," Edward grinned, "and ye said ye knew a place from yer books where the Kings have slaves and are treated like gods, and ye can drink what ye want when ye want, and all the lasses wander around with their kit off...we're going to be the new Kings of Egypt!"
Edmund doubled over the ship's railing and let the contents of his stomach loose.
"Guess uncle cannae stomach it, nae nae nae." Kayleigh giggled at her uncle's seasickness, throwing in the pun for extra measure.
"Eh, father more fit for sailing than him." Murdoch dryly remarked.
The two Scottish ships pulled into the port of Alexandria, each with a shudder, and Edward was the first to storm off of either one, with a nervous Edmund in tow, and the hatchlings following behind with neutral expressions on their faces. Edward had been in a horrific mood ever since they had encountered a Rebel boat further back along the coast. Luckily, the archers on both Scottish ships had used their flaming arrows to set the rebel's vessel on fire, causing it to sink, and causing the rebels on board to jump off in panic. Even then, it was not the most opportune thing to have happen on a voyage, and Edmund was concerned that Edward had settled into one of his infamous bad tempers. As they'd travelled on towards Egypt, Edmund had spent much of the time convincing his brother of the folly of taking on one of the mightiest nations in the world with less than 2000 men, and seemed to be getting through to him, much to the chagrin of the hatchlings. He had been sure that once they landed, Edward would spend some time whoring through Alexandria, drink himself into a stupor, get into a fight, and then travel over to the Italian Peninsula with him and write to their father asking for forgiveness. But ever since the naval battle, Edward hadn't responded to any talk on the matter.
Alexandria was a good sized city, close to the ocean as well as the Nile River, giving a green look to Egypt not familiar to Edmund form his studies. To his great surprise, he saw a familiar face standing on the dock smiling on him. It couldn't be...but it was!
Patrick MacDougall
Diplomat
Age: 20
Influence: 3
Retinue: None
Traits: Very Diplomatic
"Hello Edmund, Edward," Patrick MacDougall greeted them with a warm smile, "On behalf of Sultan Al-Mustansir, King of Egypt, I welcome ye and yer children to Alexandria."
"Ye...ye welcome us?" Edward asked, perplexed.
"Aye, I arrived a week ago to sign an agreement between Egypt and Scotland to end the threat of Moorish rebels to the west. I explained all about how King Malcolm was so committed to ending Rebel influence that he was sending 2000 of his best troops, along with his own two sons, to lend aid."
"He...he told the Sultan we were coming...?" Edward hissed, and Edmund felt his heart sink as his brother's face turned black with rage, while the hatchlings looked at the diplomat with utter annoyance.
"Aye." MacDougall replied uneasily, having obviously not foreseen the reactions from Edmund or his sons and daughters.
"Ye cannae be serious." Boudicea growled.
"He twists everything, he...he..." Edward gasped, straining for breath, "We were going to be Kings...he cannae...he cannae just...he..."
"Now, Prince Edward, be reasonab..." MacDougall started. But then, he was very quickly interrupted.
"NOT PRINCE!" Edward roared, "KING! KING EDWARD AND KING EDMUND OF EGYPT! TO ARMS! TO ARMS! DEATH TO SULTAN EL MUSTARD!"
"Wha..." MacDougall gasped as Edmund felt numbness washing over him, while the hatchlings were apparently very amused by how their father had called the Egyptian sultan "El Mustard", and the soldiers on the docks recovered from a moment of shock to react with the precision drilled into them in the military, "Nae, nae! Ye cannae do this! We have a deal with these peop-"
"SCREW YOUR DEAL!" Edward roared, startling MacDougall with his vehemence. "FORWARD! TO THE GATES! KILL THE BLOODY EGYPTIANS! KILL THEM!"
"Ah, aye, that's the spirit!" Tristan laughed as the Scottish soldiers, men and dinosaurs alike, began marching at his father's order, ignoring MacDougall's frantic protests even as they buckled on their armor, pulled themselves up onto horses (the men, anyways), and looked across the dusty plain separating the port and Alexandria's gates.
Inside Alexandria itself, Sultan Al-Mustansir stared with wide eyes from his balcony at the force marching towards the city, obviously preparing for battle.
"Seal the gates, man the walls with archers!" he hissed. "Send birds to Tulun of Taba and let him know the Scots have broken their pact! If we can hold the walls, he can have a thousand men here within a week! I'll have the Scottish Princes' heads, and those of the runts with them, sent to their father for this treachery!"
Sultan Al-Mustansir
Age: 50
Governor
Command: 5
Dread: 1
Authority: 2
Piety: 6
Retinue: Spymaster
Traits: Strategically Sound, Talent for Command, Religiously Devout, Faction Leader, Espionage
At the port, MacDougall rushed to Edmund's side as the younger soon calmly strapped on his armor.
"Ye have to do something, this is madness!" MacDougall shouted in panic. "Edward will never take the walls and we have nae provisions! Reinforcements will come up within a week and wipe us all out!"
Edmund turned to MacDougall with a look that chilled the diplomat's soul, as he saw for the first time that Edmund appeared not only resigned to this course of action, but almost indifferent to its consequences. As if reading his mind, Edmund spike, "I have worried myself to death on this trip, agonizing over the consequences of a night of drunken boast spoken in jest gone too far...now there is nothing that can be done about it. All there is to make the best of a bad situation."
Strolling over to a wicker cage of birds offloaded from the ship, Edmund coolly reached in and pulled out a dove, then flung it into the air. MacDougall watched perplexed, and then he heard a massive cheer go up from the Scottish troops. Turning, he saw, to his shock, the gates of Alexandria standing wide open.
"My studies...and my father, taught me to always be prepared for any eventuality." Edmund hissed. "I had a spy leave the ship days earlier and make his own way into Alexandria, and he's opened the gates."
MacDougall stared with wide eyes as Edmund mounted his horse and joined his waiting bodyguard, then turned to his 3 nephews and 2 nieces, who were still waiting near MacDougall.
"Come on, now, your father's already heading into the city!" Edmund beckoned for the hatchlings to follow him. "Ye don't want to keep him waiting, do ye?"
"Alright, we're coming!" Tristan responded as Kayleigh quickly jumped on Robert's back, and then all 5 of them dashed after their uncle and his bodyguard, who were starting to ride towards the city.
"The Sultan has a garrison of less than 200 men..." MacDougall gasped. "The mad fools are going to kill the King of Egypt and bring ruin on us all!"
"Eh, guess yon throne of Egypt ain't gonna be lathered with mustard, then!" Boudicea turned her head and snarked at him as she ran alongside her siblings, who, along with their uncle and his bodyguard, actually laughed at the joke.
And for now, that is my story. Return to me again, and I shall tell you more of the two Scottish Princes, one bloody-mined and quick to temper, the other intelligent and coldly calculating, who attempted to remake themselves as Kings of Egypt. And I shall also tell you of the former's adopted children, who, despite being dinosaurs, enthusiastically and eagerly supported their new father on his campaigns, even fighting alongside him.
Prince Edward
Age: 29
Faction Heir
Command: 2
Dread: 4
Loyalty: 5
Piety: 3
Retinue: Biographer
Traits: Heir Apparent, Admirer of Beauty, Skilled Bureaucrat, Genius, Deep Pockets
Edmund The Chivalrous
Age: 27
Governor
Command: 1
Chivalry: 4
Loyalty: 6
Piety: 3
Retinue: Mentor
Traits: Skilled Bureaucrat, Fair in Rule, Bastion of Chivalry, Feels Appreciated
And just to let you know, Tristan is Littlefoot, Boudicea is Cera, Kayleigh is Ducky, Murdoch is Petrie, and Robert is Spike. Chomper and Ruby won't be appearing in this story. Also, you might have noticed some of the sections about stats. Well, they are about the stats, that is, from M2TW.