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...

Darkest Africa 12: Second time coincidence...?

On the sixth day of the month of Muharram (one of the four sacred months), 1282*, my master was visited by a thousand blessings in the form of a second victory!  

Once again, the Ruga-Ruga attempted to ambush my master as her traversed Zanj, and once again, my master was victorious (although at the cost of many swordsmen!).  This time, One-Eyed Abdullahi and Qurd were forced to scout both flanks, although the vegetation was not as dense in this region, meaning the progress of our caravan was much more rapid.  By a stroke of luck, One-Eyed Abdullahi chanced upon the Ruga-Ruga leader isolated and some distance from his force, and enagaged him in combat.  He achieved first blood, but sadly was wounded by the Ruga-Ruga's ferocious attack. 

Once again, our swordsmen bore the brunt of the enemy ambush, selling their lives dearly until almost half their numbers had fallen.  Such was the ferocity of their initial attacks that one group of Ruga-Ruga simply fled.  Elsewhere, the Ruga-Ruga's warrior allies put up a greater resistance, but- uncommonly for us- weight of numbers was on our side.  Having pacified the left flank, attention was turned to the right.  There seemed litle profit in pursuing the fleeing Ruga-Ruga, so instead our caravan advanced unassailed, recovering One-Eyed Abdullahi and Qurd as we progressed.

However, we fear that the Ruga-Ruga may now be wise to our tactics.  Their ambushes are increasingly aggressive, and they seem to have noted the unwieldy nature of our force...

Word has also reached us that for sometime, Baker has been resident in Khartoum.

*Late 1865

Darkest Africa 11: First time, chance?

On the third day of the month of separation, Sha'ban, 1281*, my master did venture into Zanj, travelling as far east as possible in order to avoid those wretched northern slavers.  

This saw him enter those regions claimed by the Ruga-Ruga; as such, my master prepared for possible ambush by them.   To the left flank of our caravan was kept a mighty river, the width of which was certain to be greater than any missile which the Ruga-Ruga might throw at use.  However, this meant the path we took was  amost narrow one, and our force risked becomign stuck if a great obstacle were to reveal itself.  As such, Qurd and One-Eyed Abdullahi nimbly wove their way through the undergrowth that lay ahead.  In so doing, they soon revealed parties of Ruga-Ruga waiting to pounce.  Our noble swordsmen were at the caravan's head, and therefore unsheathed their blades and strode forth to do our enemy much mischief!  Pressing forward, they enabled the rest of our askari and baggage to progress unimpeded, although the Ruga-Ruga often came perilously close indeed, too close for comfort indeed.

Nevertheless, our baggage and force came through with little loss (especially compared to recent engagaments).  Victory at last!

*Early 1865

Darkest Africa 10: Slaves to (mis)fortune

On the twenty fifth day of the month of Pilgrimage, Dhu al-Hijjah, 1280*, my master did visit the Kaaba, and upon his return did set forth once more into that most mysterious continent.

However, in my master's absence, the vile "Turkish" slavers from the north had clearly been building their strength.  In his wisdom, my master laid an ambush, in the hope that this might grant him that victory which was elsuive in more open battle.  Sadly, this was not to be.  Whilst our loyal freemen stood their ground in combat with the foe, they were not strong enough prevail.  Likewise, our Baluchis once again proved their valiant nature, standing against an onslaught of swordsmen, warriors and spearmen, but they proved to be but as the tortoise that lies in the path of an elephant herd- an obstacle which is but brief.

Thus, we withdrew to the sounds of our captured freemen bewailing their fate, having fallen into the hands of the unscrupulous northern slavers...

On our return to Zanjibaar, to lick our wounds, it was learned that Baker had gone his own way from Speke and Grant, sighting Lake Victoria on the fifth day of the month of carrying, Shawwal**.  He appeared to make some claim about the equal importance of Lakes Albert and Victoria in relation to contributing to the Nile.  By now, it is understood that Baker has begun his return journey. 

*Late 1864

**14th March, 1864

Darkest Africa 9: Respect To The Ruga-Ruga

On the twenty first day of the month of respect, Rajab, 1280*, my master continued to recuperate from the heinous wrongs inflicted upon him by various denizens such as the Ngoni, Mangbetu and "Turkish" slavers from the north. 

He was therefore gladdened to hear that the Ruga-Ruga had attempted to raid the Turkish encampment, albeit with little success.  The raid was launched some time before dawn in an effort to minimise the effectiveness of the Turks' musketeers, but it would appear that this made little difference, given their standard ineffectiveness!

Despite advancing as rapidly as possible towards the Turk tents, the Ruga-Ruga found that sufficient warning of their raid had allowed the Turks to prepare; indeed, very soon all of their forces were in the area of the camp, with no doubt more to come.

Nevertheless, the redoubtable Ruga-Ruga hurled themselves at their Turkish foe, breaking the moral of various units and wiping out others; indeed, some of this fury was delivered by but a single Ruga-Ruga, no doubt avenging his fallen comrades.  However, by now the sun had well and truly risen, and with their strength spent, the Ruga-Ruga still found their path blocked by the Turks' elite swordsmen.  It was a small source of consolation to the Ruga-Ruga that the Turks still lacked any confidence to win the day, for in the distance they could be seen desperately trying to herd their slave coffle away from the Ruga-Ruga advance as quickly as possible!  Unfortunately for the Ruga-Ruga, demonstrating the superiority of their morale was not enough to carry the (newly-dawned) day. 

Reliable Ruga-Ruga warriors watch in disbelief as the Turk slave coffle legs it from the field of battle...

 

Position	Faction	Played	Won	Lost	Hongos
					Gained	Lost	Total
1	“Turks”	4	4	0	4	0	9
1	Mangbetu	3	2	1	2	1	6
3	Ngoni	5	2	3	2	3	4
3	Ruga-Ruga	3	1	2	1	2	4
3	Smythe-Bletherington	1	0	1	0	1	4
6	Zanzibar	4	1	3	1	3	3

*Early 1864

Darkest Africa 8: The washing of the spears...

On the thirteenth day of the month of pilgrimage, Dhu al-Hijjah 1279*, my most devout master made his way to Mecca to visit the Qaaba, and thankfully avoided any violent unpleasantness.

It was not to be the case for the Mangbetu or the Ngoni, however, who both fell foul of the damned impious "Turkish" slavers and most violent Ruga-Ruga respectively.  I am led to believe that the 'bush telegraph' will relay the specific details of these ambushes to me at a later date.    

Elsewhere, and earlier this year, in the month of Separation, Sha'aban**, Baker is said to have finally met Speke and Gordon.  The latter were following the Nile to Egypt, having apparently discovered the source of the Nile (traditionally when my pagan forebears would disperse to seek water, appropriately enough).  In light of this, it is gossiped that there is nothing for Baker's own expedition to achieve.

Position	Faction	Played	Won	Lost	Hongos
					Gained	Lost	Total
1	“Turks”	3	3	0	3	0	8
1	Mangbetu	3	2	1	2	1	6
4	Ruga-Ruga	2	1	1	1	1	5
3	Ngoni	5	2	3	2	3	4
4	Smythe-Bletherington	1	0	1	0	1	4
6	Zanzibar	4	1	3	1	3	3

*Late 1863
**February, 1863

Darkest Africa 7: Damn Their Hides!

On the tenth day of the month of respect, Rajab, 1279*, my master returned to seek glory in Zanj. 

However, he has fallen foul of those pox-ridden sons of jackals, slavers from Sudan to the north.  We were peacefully camped, when we found ourselves under attack from these mangy dogs!  Having realised they could not defeat us in a fair fight, these accursed slavers must have paid a good deal of silver or hongo to gain the services of the many tribesmen who sided with them.  Against such numbers, our brave swordsmen and wangwana were hard-pressed to prevail!

Baker appears to have enjoyed far better fortune.  With those fiendish slavers preoccupied elsewhere, he left Khartoum about six month ago in an effort to follow the course of the White Nile.

Position	Faction	Played	Won	Lost	Hongos
					Gained	Lost	Total
1	Mangbetu	2	2	0	2	0	7
1	“Turks”	2	2	0	2	0	7
3	Ngoni	4	2	2	2	2	5
4	Ruga-Ruga	1	0	1	0	1	4
4	Smythe-Bletherington	1	0	1	0	1	4
6	Zanzibar	4	1	3	1	3	3

*Early 1863