The Skirmishes are behind us and we now begin the Matched Play part of the campaign. My Freeguilders are now at 750p and the first scenario was Path to Glory: Altars of the Gods against 750p of Seraphon. Both sides are trying to control 3 or more Altars at the end of any of their turns, starting from the 2nd battleround.
On with the story!
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"Irregulars to the front."
"Sir, wha–"
"Irregulars to the front."
The sergeant grimaced, saluted and set off to the back of the marching column, leaving Captain Oswald Wesley alone. He watched the sergeant make his way past the arquebusiers and halberdiers, all the way to the back where the militia was trudging along.
Oswald snorted. He, along with a handful of other captains, had been tasked to take their companies through some strange forest-fog to Hysh, to seek out ancient altars and to secure them. All because those pesky scholars Fersen and Rosengart had emerged at the camp with an ornate key, telling people to go find something-something because something had to be taken to somewhere-somehow. It didn't make any sense to Wesley. He was a soldier, and a good one, at that. There was a reason he was one of the hand-picked captains that had been chosen to attend this drill camp outside Averbury. He was good.
....and cold. Oswald had never been known for one with tendency towards empathy. That might also be why he was attending the greenie camp. Doesn't matter though, he thought as the irregulars were jogging past him to form a front line. Now he once again had men to command and a mission to accomplish. It was a great feeling.
"Sir, those are Seraphon, are they not? They're our allies against the forces of the Dark Gods."
"Is that so, Falkenberg?" Wesley shot back.
"Then why do they stand there like they're intercepting us?"
"Sir... they are ancient beings, we cannot assume to be able to read their intentions. We have no idea what they're here for."
"Don't you worry, sergeant, we are about to find out very soon. Company, ready weapons!"
Eighty freeguilders drew their swords, axes, guns, clubs, bows and halberds. Some of the men were apparently thrilled by the prospect of some real action, swinging their weapons of choice in the air in warm-up strikes while working themselves up to a state of activity. The sergeant looked very worried, constantly tightening his leather gloves and checking his pistol in its holster.
"Worry not, Falkenberg. These beings are not of mortal flesh and the men are in need of practice. That, and these heavenly reptiles are standing in my way. It's a win-win situation, the way I see it," Oswald consoled his subordinate, drawing his own blade from its scabbard.
"Huh... I wonder where they went," the Captain mumbled thoughtfully, trying to get a proper view from behind the irregulars' formation.
Another flash of light. The Saurus materialised right next to the freeguilders' left flank and jumped on the Handgunners with tooth and claw. Helmets sundered and flesh got torn as crude stone-tipped spears transfixed men and tooth-edged shields opened gaping wounds.The Militia ran to their aid, unloading pistols and crossbows at point-blank range before setting upon the lizards with blades and clubs. The shots bounced off the enemy's scaly shields, leaving little more than a scratch. Swords and maces fared little better, and several of the Saurus were brought down.
Screams, clashes, ripping sounds and wailing. Sounds that were very familiar to Oswald Wesley. He felt at home.
"Don't just stand there, take up positions by that altar behind you. Remember, he who controls the battlefield, controls the battle." He said to the halberdiers beside him. The soldiers couldn't tear their eyes off the melee that was taking place right under their noses: blood spilling out of stumps that used to be arms and legs, tangles of guts snaking out of torn bellies.
"Go on. There's nothing to fear. Our numbers will begin to tell in a couple of moments," the Captain continued, winking. This finally got the halberdiers going for the altar.
It was true. No matter how many men came down under the ferocity of the Saurus assault, many more piled in and upon the foe, dragging them down. Soon only a trio of enemies were still standing, the slain bodies of their breed slowly dissipating to shiny dust in the ground.
At Wesley's command, the Handgunners detached themselves from the fighting, taking up positions near the other altar. The irregulars were still keeping the lizards busy.
"Militia, detach and move up! Heads low!"
At his second command, the irregulars ran off towards the two distant altars, leaving the three surviving Saurus standing on a heap of corpses between the freeguild formations. A trumpet blared and near two dozen arquebuses thundered at once. The Saurus were torn apart by the salvo.
Captain Wesley ran after the irregulars, nodding to himself as he went. The Handgunners were faring well. Perphaps he would consider changing their next week's forty-mile march to a night's leave in Averbury once they returned to the camp. Maybe.
A Skin Starpriest was revealed from behind the hill to the right, and Oswald instinctively ordered his men to aim and loose. Pistols barked and bows thrummed, showering the diminutive spellcaster with projectiles. It's pin-cushioned corpse began slowly dissipating to star dust on the ground.
The Sunblood fought like a living legend. It's starmace caved in the head of militiaman Calvin, while its shield tore Werner's belly wide open. Corporal Gunthard ran to their aid with his pistol, but didn't manage to get off a shot before the creature clamped its jaws shut around his neck, spraying the other men with gore. The Saurus cohort fought with equal ferocity, their stone blades and axes hacking wetly into tender human flesh. The irregulars were faltering, the men at the back ranks looking around for a way out. Wesley would have none of that.
"Alright, men! Suck it up. Bite your lip and grind your teeth, but you will not give ground! Not an inch!" he roared at the fighting militia, turning their focus back to the fight.
"Pain is nothing but weakness leaking out of your body! Let it flow, and grow stronger!"
The Captain raised his own sword high into the air. The line had steadied, and now he needed them to push. He drew in a lungful of air.
"FIGHT, MEN OF AVERBURY, FIGHT! PUSH THROUGH! BREAK THEIR RANKS!"
"Push! Push! Push!"
And they pushed. Many still fell to the teeth and blades of the enemy, but the men of Averbury ground on with grim determination. At first, the ranks of the Saurus buckled. Then, they broke.
As the enemy lines gave in, the irregulars let out a mighty triumphant roar. They pushed on. The lizards were elbowed aside as near thirty roaring men washed over them like a tidal wave, hacking and slashing wildly with a plethora of weaponry. The irregulars broke free of the enemy and swarmed to the altars their foe had left behind. The banner of the Puffington Irregulars was lifted upon the ruined structure, greeted by howling militiamen all around it. Someone from the halberdiers clapped. Captain Oswald looked upon the scene and smiled a genuine smile. Perhaps these lads were good for something after all!
The Saurus Sunblood broke the back of the man it was holding against the ground with a wet crunch. It looked around, clearly sensing that things were not going their way. It left the body lying atop a pile of others, roared at Wesley and turned away. The Saurus cohorts followed suit, withdrawing into the wilderness around the ruins. It seemed both sides agreed that further bloodshed would serve no purpose. Not between allies. Some of the handgunners were still taking pot-shots at the Sunblood as it retreated, but Captain Oswald Wesley put an end to it with a shouted threat.
Let the protectors of the firmament make their withdrawal. They are not our true enemies.
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A Major Victory for the Free Peoples!
The game started off with a bang as the Saurus Warriors engaged by formation before I could even move, and my opponent skillfully placed his attackers so that my Great Companies -Battle Trait didn't function. A bad setting for my troops. I was execting slaughter, but it seems many problems can be fixed by throwing 60-ish non-Rending Ranged attacks at it. The Saurus withered away and with a couple of retreats I was one the move once again.
While my Handgunners and Halberdiers held the two altars at my end (doing basically nothing the whole game), my unit of (initially) 40 Militia performed rather well. With the presence of my general and his Indomitable trait (+1 Save within 12") that blob of redshirts ran up the board, shot up some stuff, took the enemy counter-attack and stood its ground there. Then, with some careful casualty-removal management and the At the Double Command Ability, I was able to push my troops through to catch the required third altar, scoring victory.
The next game will be 1000p, and I added a Helblaster and 5 Pistoliers to the army. Let's hope they'll bring some stopping power and mobility to my infantry-heavy list!
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