Blog quondam, Blogque futurus

...and in its time of greatest need, it would return...

This blog is back- hopefully- and what better way than with the start of some practice games for Dux Britanniarum by TooFatLardies?

This was to be a bit of a learning-the-rules session.  We decided to go for a battle scenario and fielded an ungodly number of groups in the hope that there'd be carnage amidst the stopping and explaining of the rules to our four players.

Anyway, on the with prologue.  The scene for our Dark Age attack ws a suitably mist-shrouded valley.  To the north, there was a gentle rise of land topped with an ancient stone circle, in  which some mystical chap in a cloak was mumbling to himself.  To the south-east, a reasonably dense forest (or part thereof).  Strewn across the battlefield were a number of tilled plots of land, that would prove to be remarkably difficult going in the end. 

Streaming in from the north-west came our heroes (to my mind anyway) whilst their vile foe came as a rabble from the east.  With entrails about to be spilled and breeches to soon be filled with fear, the respective leaders of each side decided to do what they could to lift and stiffen the spirits of their troops...

"Look, I know there's going to be a certain amount of violence, but at least we all know it's for a good cause- don't we?"

Surprisingly, these somewhat diffident words had some affect on our hero's humble troops, raising their morale [+1 Force Morale] and certainly inflating his own sense of self worth [Lord's status raised from 3 to 4]  Sadly attempts to invoke the power of the Almighty fell on deaf ears, and the ecclesiastical sherry served alongside wasn't really what his troops wanted in a pre-punch-up pint.  What of the foe? 

Right lads, let's get ratted!

No messing about for the foe- after a swift half (or half a dozen), they decided it was time to close with the enemy.  Battle was to commence...

...just very slowly....

Suffice to say, there was much general manouevring on both sides, and for once the missile troops on both sides actually got a good chance to soften up their opponents.  Movement rolls suggested that the majority of troops on both sides were having second thoughts about haring into battle, and our hero's forces discovered that a shieldwall is great for survivability, but at the expense of mobility.

However, this did give time for both sides- particularly our hero's- to race through the Fate deck, buying cards like there was no tomorrow (which would be the case if they lost).  Ah-ha!  They've realised that all cards are equal, but some are more equal than others, to misquote the word of God.

 In  the end, there were two significant clashes.  To the south, a formation of two our our hero's Warrior groups had been stiffened with the presence of their sole Elite group.  Enough was enough, they thought, and with our hero and his champion to the fore, they hurled themselves at their dastardly foes.  This cunningly saw them use two of their Fate cards, boosting their formation's number of combat dice from 18 to a mighty 30!  Alas for their foes, they had no Suitless cards to boost their own abilities, and rolled a 'mere' 18.  Suffice to say, these mere dice were not enough to stop the foul enemy Elite group from routing in short order.  To add insult to injury to the enemy, the group that the enemy Elite fled through decided that now might be the time for a tactical withdrawal.  An inviting foot-wide gap now began to appear in the enemy line!

To the north, our hero's forces had skirted the bottom of the gentle rise as they hurried to meet the enemy (incidentally contacting the enemy's sole group of harrassing troops, forcing them to be flee the field of battle).  This time it was the enemy who had the initiative, hurling their spears with strong arms and then aggressively charging into the troops before them.  Our hero's Warriors held their own, but out on the far flank, the humble Levy crumbled in the face of the determined enemy charge.

"Whaddya mean, call it a draw?"

At this point, time meant we had to come to a close.  There'd been lots of explaining of rules and choices to the new players, and consistently low movement rolls had delayed the expect clash of arms, but encouragingly during the post-game drinks, there was a strong desire to have another game next week, to try out a more conventional scenario.

I spies me a Church raid....

Brother Pistus carefully picked his way along the trail to St. Ogg's, his mind elsewhere.  It had been some time since he'd heard from his cousin, Brother Noote of St Nimmo's.  He hoped nothing had happened to him.  Before Pistus could consider Noote's fate further, he became aware of a number of gentlemen bursting out the undergrowth, rushing towards St. Ogg's and waving speasr and axes.

Not again, thought Pistus...