Game Report: Fatum in Porta

Southern Gaul, 146 BCE

Gaius Portius Carbo had not been a happy man in months, not since his hubris, his arrogance had led him to volunteer for a special mission for the Praetor. Now he was trapped in an unending nightmare, fighting the monsters who emerged almost daily from the ocean, in seemingly endless waves. Fight after fight, risk after risk, horror after horror. 

Now at least there was the promise of an end to the nightmare. The odious spy was once again accompanying him and a picked party of soldiers, to a stone circle deep inside enemy ravaged territory, while the rest of the Legion fortified their camp in an obvious position to draw off the main enemy horde. The priests had assured the Praetor and him that performing a barbarian ritual at the stone circle would drive the creatures back into the sea for more than two thousand years. A local Gallic druid had been persuaded, with great effort, to part with the details of this ritual. 

There wasn't much further to go, and hopefully the nightmare would end. One way or another. 

The Cursed Dry-Lands, the one hundredth and seventh day of the campaign

Athtaen of the Deep Burrows was tired. The demands of serving the God of the Deep were many and took a great toll. Even worse, fighting on the Cursed Dry-Lands was sapping his strength further, the magics cast so long ago by the mud-crawlers still potent enough to drive him and his kin back into the sea regularly. His scrying had identified a focal of the power that held them back, with a little effort he could reach it and break the magics, allowing his kin to ravage the dry-lands endlessly.

Perhaps then the God of the Deep would then grant his tribe the strength to rule over the whole of their kind, and perhaps Athtaen would be granted a night of peace. 

The Game

This game pitched the forces of Rome against the Formorian invaders, in the final installment of a series of games which we began many years ago, see games one, two and three here. In this game, a force of Romans had to get the magical spear they had retrieved to a stone circle and perform a ritual, while a group of Formorians had to escort their priest to the same circle to lift a curse that held them back from conquering all of the earth. 

The stone circle stands silent for now

The circle was at the far end of the table from the two sides who entered on opposite sides of the table, immediately facing the choice of charging for the objective or clashing with one another.

The Roman force consisted of:

Gaius Portius Carbo - Centurion

Septimus Castricus - Picked Principius

Marcus Aventius, Sextus Apidius, Gaius Ofanius - Principii

Tiberius Gellius, Appois Hortensius - Triarii

Mansur, Scallius - Syrian Archers

Gaius Nonius - Spy

The Romans arrive

The Formorian warband consisted of:

Sargessir the Unproven - Tribal Chieftain 

Athtaen of the Deep Warrens - Priest 

Grawl and Kwarwk - Beastmen Beserkers 

Barrelithin and Hetherin the Bound - Tribal Champions

Trestiral and Mensarum - Warriors

Nimestel, Scrablein and Lotherimur - Huntsmen

The horde descends

In the opening couple of turns, the Roman spy and the Syrian arches broke away from the main body of Romans, heading around the farm to make their way to the circle, the spy clutching the spear, while the whole Formorian force bore down on the encroaching Romans.

The Roman force splits up, which can't possible end badly.

Led by their newly crowned Chieftain, the Formorians surge forward.

The two sides continued to close, with Formorian arrows thudding around the Romans or into their shields. After the Romans sought cover behind a small rise, the Formorians closed, eventually launching a charge when the Romans showed themselves, with Grawl rapidly felling Gauis Ofanius in the first charge.

Blades clash as the two sides begin their first combat of the game.

In what would later prove to be a critical moment, one Formorian arrow went a little astray, killing a piglet in the nearby pen. 

Athtaen, Sargessir and the two tribal champions left the warriors, Beastmen and hunstmen to tie up the main Roman force, making their way towards the stone circle. 

The objective is in sight.

As they approached, two forms emerged from the stones around the circle, coalescing into the horrifying forms of two skeletons wielding scythes, one wreathed in red light, the other bathed in a blue glow. 

New arrivals cause mild consternation among the players.

Meanwhile, near the main fight, the mother of the piglet so cruelly slain by a Formorian arrow broke out of her pen, enraged and seeking vengeance. 

The pig breaks free

With only one creature in her immediate line of sight, the pig charged at a Formorian huntsman, bowling him over and trampling him to death in moments. 

The pig strikes back with the fury born of tragic loss

Elsewhere far more convention fights raged, Sargessir charged by one of the skeletons, neither of them having any real impact on each other, the main brawl continuing with wounds being traded off and both sides struggled to outflank one another, and the two tribal champions, having moved to intercept the Roman spy and archers finding themselves being attacked by the other skeleton, who cut down Barrelithin in short order.

A brutal sweep of the scythe ends the rise of a Formorian champion

While all this chaos was unfolding, the Roman spy was able to dash into the stone circle, plant the spear and recite the incantation, which unleashed a torrent of energy, which ripped through the Formorians and Beastmen, driving the souls of any who showed insufficient willpower to resist the waves of energy trying to drive them back into the sea, decimating the Formorian force, killing Krawrk and the two remaining huntsmen.

In the meantime, the pig charged into the main melee, crashing into Marcus Aventius, goring him in the abdomen and sending him to the underworld as the rest of his men swarmed and attempted to bring down the monsters. 

Oblivious to the fighting around her, fueled by her blind rage, the pig claims another victim.

Before further pulsations of magic could completely wipe out the Formorian force, Athtaen stormed into it, bringing the God of the Deep's magic into conflict with the power the Romans had unleashed from the stone circle, creating a swirling vortex around the circle.

Man and monster clash, surrounded by a maelstrom of energy.

Eager to aid, and unsure he could fire through the magical storm engulfing the circle, Mansur attempted to charge into the Formorian priest, entering the vortex, at which moment he was torn to shreds by the forces within, scattering shards of armour, fragments of bone and tatters of flesh across the field as a red mist briefly colours the storm, rapidly dissipating. 

Fighting inside the stone circle, the spy managed to wound for Formorian priest, forcing him back until he was nearly at the edge of the maelstrom. 

Meanwhile, while the Roman centurion distracted the maddened beast, Appius Hortensius managed to stick a spear into the pig, putting an end to her rampage.

The true terror of the battle lies slain

The ongoing melee saw Grawl cut down another Roman, oblivious to the fate of the two warriors by his side, cut down by the Roman blades. Meanwhile, Hetherin the Bound managed to inflict a telling blow on the skeleton who was attacking him, crushing bone and dispersing the creature. 

With Grawl outnumbered, the Roman Centurion and picked Principius stormed away to aid in the fight against the Formorian priest, hoping they could force a way through the storm around the circle somehow. Instead they ended up tied up in a fight with the last Formorian champion, while, having effortlessly cut down the remaining Roman archer who had charged into him, Sargessir was set on fire by the blade of the skeleton monster, suffering a wound in the process. 

The Roman leadership leaves the foot soldiers to their fate, possibly described in a more heroic manner in their report to their superiors.

With himself on his final wound, and his Chieftain down a wound, Athtaen attempted to cast the Regrowth miracle to heal them both. 

Gaius Nonius watched in horror as a pit of darkness opened beneath the creature he was fighting, grasping tentacles of darkness reaching up and wrapping themselves around the monster. For a moment he thought that this was some horrific spell about to be unleashed upon him, before he saw, just momentarily, a look of agony sweep across the creature's face as the tentacles swarmed over its face. And, a moment later, the creature vanished, dragged down into the pit, which sealed itself, leaving only a small patch of barren, blighted earth to indicate it had ever been there. 

With a very unfortunate Wrath of the Gods roll, the spell backfired, killing Athtaen, ending the Formorian chances of achieving their objectives, at which point we called the game for the evening.

The final result was a victory for the Romans, reinforcing the magic with the enchantment extracted from the Gallic druid, driving the monsters back into the sea, ending our little campaign as a human win overall, if a costly one across the games. In an amusing (to me) little aside, the magical spear over which so much of this blood had been shed was entirely fake, a scheme made up by the Roman spy to help improve morale, with no magical effect whatsoever. 

Gaius Portius Carbo led the handful of survivors back to the Legion's camp, the spy, his picked guard and himself being the only survivors, the ox-headed monster having slain the last of the soldiers in his force before being overcome by the energy radiating from the barbarian monument. As soon as he was able, Carbo was going to retire to the countryside, somewhere high upon a hill and far from the sea, and live out his day without ever having to raise a sword again. He feared, however, that no matter how long he lived his nights would ever be haunted by the monstrosities. 

Athtaen felt himself being pulled apart, piece by piece, in exquisite agony, reassembled, the fragments of his flesh being bound together by a magic that burned and coursed through his body, over and over, for what felt like a millennium, as he was dragged deeper and deeper, the faint light from where the pit he had been drawn into receding ever further. As the light faded from view, he looked down instead, catching sight of strange shapes emerging from the gloom, twisted faces, mud-crawlers, Beastmen, Sirens, and Formorians, each screaming silently, faces twisted into masks of pure agony. He landed on something soft, writhing, moist and foul smelling, the tentacles that had been peeling his flesh away releasing him for a moment before grasping his limbs and pinning him down. He felt the God of the Deep speaking deep within him, as shapes swirled through the darkness and mist, their eyes gleaming and keen, teeth sharp, bared in a heartless grin. "The price of failure is eternal." spoke his God, before severing their link forever. Athtaen could but scream.

The Romans in the game were from Crusader Miniatures and Warlord Games, while the Formorians were from Brigade Model's Celtos range. We played using the Broken Legion rules from Osprey. 

Where once there had been a monster, now stood nothing

A long time after the strange smelling people had left, and the terrifying noises had ceased, he had ventured out from home, following her scent. He followed it to a pile of something foul smelling. An experimental taste confirmed that this was not food. He trotted on, following the scent, now mixed in with the foul smell. 

Then he found her, curled up in a ball, but not warm as she had been the night before as they had sheltered together, but cold, unmoving. He cried out to her, but she did not stir. He cried louder still, getting no response. It broke his heart, but he finally realised she would never stir again. 

He nuzzled her one last time, fighting back his grief. "I will avenge you." he whispered. "It may take a hundred generations, but I will raise our kind to fight back against the creatures who took you from me. And we will be bound by a simple creed."

"Four legs good, two legs bad."

Game Report: Bag the Cat

22nd March, 1945. Somewhere East of Adendorf 0740

Gary Harmon had hoped the war would end before he got drafted, before he could be trained, before he could be shipped halfway around the world to Europe, before he could see combat. He had thought his luck had come good when he was assigned to guard the Battalion HQ, far from the fighting. He assumed he would be able to wait out the war and then go home, safe and sound, whenever this stupid war ended.

And now here he was, leading a group of men through the mud and rain, cold, tired and miserable, to try and hunt down a German tank that was rampaging around the rear areas, with nothing more than their rifles and whatever they could scavenge up from the conflict ravaged land. 

'War really is hell.' he thought. 

The Game

The game area, with the remnants of the Allied convoy whose ambush alerted command to the presence of the Tiger scattered about.

The game pitted a team manning a Tiger tank, tasked to rescue a German colonel with some vital documentation, against a team playing as US Army squads who had been scraped up to try and hunt it down. The US squads had their personal weapons only, and would have to scavenge weapons to bring down the beast, while the tank crew were in a different room, using a web cam to get a view of what their tank could see (with a cardboard screen that was used to further restrict their vision when the tank was buttoned down), so were operating with at best limited information. There was also a dummy camera to cause confusion on the American side too.

As a final complication, stragglers from both sides who had become lost or cut off after the fighting the night before were in the area (activating on random card events).

The Americans arrive, guided in by the columns of smoke from the burning tanks and the sound of an engine.

The Americans began advancing on a broad front, looking to loot the burning vehicles and stacks of supplies scattered about for some heavier firepower. Meanwhile, the Tiger's commander dismounted to check a building for sign of the Colonel they had been sent to rescue. 

No one appears to be home. Perhaps they're camera shy?

The early American attempts at salvaging useful equipment went poorly, the soldiers not being willing to approach the burning vehicles. Unfortunately for the players, they were convinced it was only the repeatedly poor dice rolls, rather than survival instincts, that were stopping them from finding useful equipment. 

Another team, however, found some abandoned munitions crates, and enthusiastically set to looting. They quickly racked up a good stash of grenades, two demolition charges and a single, precious Panzerfaust anti-tank weapon. 

It's not looting, it's surprise requisitioning.

Finally the US players worked out that burning tanks weren't a great source of supplies and began to head towards the other stashes of ammunition or fuel scattered across the field, while the German tanks slowly trundled forwards, narrowly avoiding bogging down as they entered a copse. 

The Americans suffered their first casualty as one of their soldiers entered the central manor house, gunned down by persons unknown. This immediately drew significant attention, with two US players' teams converging on the house from two directions.

US troops sneak up on the house where one of their comrades had apparently been shot and killed.

Meanwhile the third US player's forces had spotted the Tiger (which now appeared on the table), and tried to set up an ambush, with two two-man teams with demolition charges and grenades and a fifth man with the Panzerfaust moving into cover ahead of the expected line of advance of the Tiger and to its sides. Whichever way it turned, some of the Tiger's vulnerable side or rear armour would have to be exposed. 

The Tiger advances into a field, apparently unaware of the threats stalking it. 

The German driver noticed the nearest pair of American troops ahead to his right, and decided to deal with the situation directly. With a deafening roar, the Tiger mounted and then smashed through the wall of the field, directly towards the two American soldiers, who, thanks to some lucky dice rolls, managed to scramble out of the vehicle's way. 

A narrow escape for two GIs

With the tank distracted, the GI with the Panzerfaust took aim at the exposed rear armour, raised high in the air. 

A perfect chance to end the beast.

Naturally this meant that the dice roll was dire, and the rocket went wide, completely unnoticed by the German crew. Attempts to use grenades to damage the tracks of the tank also met with dismal results.

The Germans retaliated, using the coaxial machine gun to open up on a nearby American sergeant. The man, who had been sheltering from the threat in the house, was exposed, and went down.

MG34 fire cuts down another American, narrowly missing another further along the road.

Meanwhile, some of the Americans scavenging on the other side of the table came across an unexpected find, an apparently undamaged M24 Chaffee tank.

Who left this here then?

Despite the clear and present threat of the tank, a significant amount of the American player's attention was focused on the manor house, with several men clustered and ready to storm it. 

The storming party prepares itself.

As an opening gambit, Sergeant Nathaniel Trent tossed a grenade into the first floor window. Or, more accurately, near to the first floor window. The grenade bounced off the wall, landing at the feet of the US troops, killing two of them, but sparing the hapless Sergeant.

Events accelerated rapidly at this point, the scavenging troops who had found the Chaffee started testing it, finding that the cannon worked then they fired the round that had been sitting in the breach. Another man entered the house, sneaking up on a two man machine-gun crew whose attention was locked on the storming party at the front of the house.

Meanwhile, the Americans who had nearby been run down by the Tiger threw more explosives, both grenades and demolition charges towards the tank's tracks, doing some damage, but not yet immobilising the beast. The tank advanced, swinging round towards its attackers and the house, firing off a round at the two survivors of the storming party still out the front of the house, killing one, but again, not Sergeant Trent. While this drama played out up front, the lone rifleman in the house opened fire on the machine-gun team, killing both in a brief firefight.

In their buttoned down tank however, the crew had missed one American, hidden between the tank and the wall of the field, armed with the last demolition charge. He hurled the charge onto the engine deck of the Tiger, where it detonated, causing the beast to judder to a halt and catch fire. 

Man wins against machine

Appalling rolls by the crew saw only one man (the driver) make it out of the beast as ammunition cooked off and the fuel burned, ending the game as an American victory. 

The Colonel the tank had come to rescue had taken advantage of all the chaos to slip away from the area, avoiding the US squads, and skirting around the sounds of combat. He and all but one of his entourage would escape back to German lines, with the vital documents in hand. 

22nd March, 1945. Somewhere East of Adendorf 0910

The Tiger was still burning, regular explosions punctuating the crackle of the flames as individual rounds cooked off. Five men, lying painfully still beneath the blankets that covered them, were gathered in the grounds of the house around which most of them had been killed. Not far off, the bodies of two German soldiers who had been in the house had been dumped with far less ceremony. 

Sergeant Trent was sitting nearby, smeared in blood, a look of guilt writ large across his face. Harmon almost felt sorry for the man, pathetic and repulsive though he had always found him. 

Another explosion drew his attention, another round going off inside the burning tomb of the Germans who had brought him so close to death. But instead they were dead. Perhaps he would make it back home after all. 

Outremer Campaign: Battle Report: Game 3: Camp Assault

Game 3: Usamah ibn-Munqidh vs Sir William the Carpenter

Usamah was tired, the day had seen a long march to catch up with the small group of Franks that, according to Yakut al-Hamawi's contacts was carrying a chest full of papers from the local Duke to the King of Jerusalem. The opportunity to get hold of such valuable information, and some more money and supplies for their operation was far too good an opportunity to pass up.

This game pitted a camped Crusader forces against an attack from a Damascene band who had been sent to gather information.

The Frankish camp and it's defenders, oblivious to the approcah of Yakut al-Hamawi and the rest of the Damascene warband behind him.

In the opening moves, the Saracens snuck towards the Frankish camp, using the trees for cover, before Yakut al-Hamawi rose from his hiding spot and loosed an arrow at Guibert of Nagent, which missed him.

An arrow proves a rude, if not painful, awakening for the Franks.

 The sudden intrusion led to a flight to the the wadi walls for cover, and Robert of Salerno loosed an arrow.

A mad scramble for cover ensues.

Robert's arrow found it's mark, and Yakut fell.

Yakut falls, clutching the arrow that brought him down.

Both sides spent the remained of the turn rushing into cover, Usamah ibn-Munqidh's crossbow alarming the Crusaders, and Robert of Salerno's dead-eye shot causing consternation in the Damascene ranks.

Brave warriors all, everyone scambles to cover.

Robert loosed an arrow at Usamah, hitting, but failing to wound the Saracen. Clearly irritated by the attempt on his life, Usamah, after retaking his position behind cover, loosed a bolt at the insolent Frank, knocking him out of the fight.

The quick duel between Usamah and Robert ends with the Saracen victorious.

Karajuk stormed across the wadi to threaten the objectives.

With the archer threat eliminated, the Damascenes advance

Ali ibn al-Athir crossed the wadi on the other side of the Frankish camp, running into Ugo.

Steel meets steel.

The fight was brief, and Ugo emerged victorious.

Ugo stands triumphant

Not to be outdone, Sir William the Carpenter charged into Karajuk, wielding his fearsome double handed axe. The Mamluk tried to parry the terrible blow, but was cut down.

Sir William fells a foe

But in this moment of triumph, Sir William had left himself visible to Usamah ibn-Munqidh, who calmly aimed his crossbow and loosed the bolt, striking and felling the knight.

Usamah spies his target

Sir William falls alongside his victim

Rapidly running out of options, and time, Usamah ibn-Munqidh crossed the wadi and moved into contact with an objective. Guglielmo attempted to charge the Saracen, but quailed at the sight of his opponent.

Guglielmo fails to press the attack, while his brother moves towards the threat.

After his initial failure of nerve, Guglielmo recovered and charged home before Usamah could loot anything, eventually, after a brief pause to gather his courage, joined by his brother Ugo.

The brothers hammer away at Usamah

In a somewhat comical (from a neutral perspective at least) final two rounds, the three men were locked in combat, Usamah consistently failing, even with a dice level advantage in some clashes, to hit anything, while making all but one of at least eight 5+ saving throws (all with 5s somehow), causing the Crusader player to develop something of a complex.

And with that farcical combat, turn eight of the game ended, with the defenders having successfully driven off the attack with all objectives intact.

Usamah ibn-Munqidh's arm ached to put it mildly, bruises on his arm marking where the axe blows had fallen on his shield, which was now splintered and near useless. The Franks had fought a good fight, but at least he and his men had escaped relatively unscathed, if empty handed.

Battle Report: A Burning Question

Near Al-Khalasa, 1160

Sir James was a worried man, not only was his somewhat... challenging... companion Urlich with him, but now they had been joined by the current favourite of the Order's leaders, Brother Karl the Flaggelist, a man known for his unrestrained brutality in the face of his enemies, and an almost ghoulish relish for battle and blood. "Sir James" Brother Karl's voice intruded into his thoughts "the village lies not far ahead." Around them marched their raiding force, their orders simple. The village of Al-Khalasa had to burn. "We will form into line behind this ridge, then advance upon them." Sir James said. "God will bring us victory this day."

The village of Al-Khalasa before the storm descends upon it

The Templar raiders for this game consisted of:

1 unit of Mounted Men at Arms (Templar Knights)

1 unit of Mounted Sergeants (Templar Sergeants)

1 unit of Foot Sergeants with Expert upgrade (Templar Foot Sergeants)

1 unit of Foot Sergeants (Templar Foot Sergeants)

1 unit of Crossbowmen (Templar Crossbowmen)

The Saracen defenders fielded:

2 units of Mounted Sergeants with Mounted Missiles (Mamluks)

1 unit of Foot Yeomen with Expert upgrade (Swordsmen)

2 units of Foot Yeomen (Spearmen)

1 unit of Archers (Archers, deployed in the village at the start of the game)

We used the Lion Rampant rules for this game, with one House Rule modification, namely that when a unit fails it's order roll, rather than ending the turn for that side, the opposing side can instead choose another unit which then cannot be activated that turn. This came about after a couple of games where multiple 5+ roll failures effectively decided the game (see here for an example). As it turned out, the 5+ curse continued in this game. The scenario was Sausages with Mustard, with the four buildings of the village as the objectives.

The figures used were Fireforge Games for the Templars, Gripping Beast Plastics for the Saracens. 

The Game:

The Templars deployed with their knights on their left, the foot sergeants facing the village in the centre, with the Mounted Sergeants on their right, while the crossbowmen were deployed to move into olive grove for cover. In their first turn, the Templars boldly seized the initiative and failed three command rolls, all at 5+, and stood, staring at their target. The Saracen players were highly amused.

The Templars stall in their first turn.

The Saracen relief force meanwhile was motivated enough to move their entire force, while the archers in the town awaited a target. 

Help moves towards the threatened village

Templar fortunes improved in the second turn, although their mounted forces remained halted, the infantry began to advance. 

The infantry advance, the cavalry wait.

Whatever had affected the Templar horses was clearly widespread as the Mamluks were also left unable to move, while their infantry began to arrive at the town. 

Saracen infantry move into the town to defend it.

Clearly sloth was an issue in the Templar ranks, as the next turn saw only the hand-weapon armed Foot Sergeants moving. 

The Saracen bowmen ready themselves to shoot at the encroaching enemy

Not to be outdone, the Saracens then failed to move at all for a turn, before the next turn saw the Templar spearmen moving closer to their target.

The advance continues to be a crawl

While their reinforcements continued to move up, the archers in the village managed to take out one of the Templar foot sergeants, drawing first blood. 

The first Templar sergeant falls

Finally, after several turns of lethargy, the mounted Templar sergeants moved forward, while the crossbowmen entered the olive grove. The hand weapon armed foot sergeants moved around the north side of the village. The Knights and spearmen remained stuck where they were.

Finally the mounted arm of the Templars (partially) moves

The Saracens continued to rush into the village, while the archers targeted the mounted Sergeants, taking one down.

The relief force arrives

Arrows take down a mounted sergeant

The Templar spearmen and Mounted Sergeants pushed towards the village, not quite reaching the buildings that were their targets, but getting close enough to threaten the archers with a charge.

Templars arrive at the village

Facing the oncoming spearmen, the Saracen archers promptly failed to move back, leaving themselves dangerously exposed.

In a dangerous situation, the Saracen archers fail to make their escape

The relief force pushed forwards, getting into position to threaten the invaders.

The two forces close each other down.

The Templars once again excelled themselves in order rolls, while the hand weapon armed sergeants advanced, and, to the shock of all, the Knights moved, the Mounted sergeants failed to move to the buildings, the spearmen failed to charge the archers. 

The foot sergeants close on their enemies

The Knights move finally

Finally able to get into the action, the Templar crossbowmen loosed a volley at the Saracen spearmen ahead of them, inflicting heavy losses, although the unit remained un-battered.

Templar crossbow bolts find their marks

The Templar foot sergeants faced a charge by the Saracen spearmen ahead of them, both sides losing a man in the fighting, but the Templars failing their courage test, leaving them vulnerable with the Mamluks moving up onto their flank. 

The sergeants find themselves in a difficult position

The archers meanwhile regained their senses and moved back into the village, out of charge range of the spearmen. 

The Templar sergeants rallied from their shock, while the Knights managed to creep a bit closer to their targets. The spearmen advanced into the alley vacated by the archers, contacting two of the target buildings, while the Mounted sergeants also advanced to a position where they could bring fire to their foes.

The Templars set themselves up to torch the nearest half of the village.

While the Saracen right flank was paralysed and unable to hit the Foot Sergeants, the rest of the relief force pushed into the village, and the archers took one of the Templars down. 

The spearmen find their advance blocked, and arrows take one of their number down.

In their next turn, the Templars managed to set both buildings they were in contact with on fire, and their crossbowmen killed two more Saracen spearmen, leaving the unit battered. The Knights also charged the Mamluk unit threatening the Templar left flank, driving them back and killing one of them in the process.

Templars bring fire to the village

The Mamluk unit attacked the Foot Sergeants in their turn, being driven back after both units lost a man. 

Mamluks fail to smash the outflanked sergeants, but do bring them down to half strength

Their first target ablaze, the mounted sergeants moved around the last surviving spearmen on the Templar right, while the spearmen in the centre charged and drove back the archers, killing two for the loss of one of their own. The remaining foot sergeants on the Templar left fell back to safety.

The Templar spearmen push further into the village.

The Mamluks, facing the prospect of a charge by the Knights in their next turn, stormed into them in an attempt to take some down with them, but were cut down to a man for no loss to the Templars. On the Saracen left, the last of the spearmen choose to flee rather than face another crossbow volley. 

The Mamluks are destroyed by the knights

Templar forces continued to close in on the village, with the Knights smashing into the spearman unit, the Mounted Sergeants charging the remaining Mamluk unit, but the spearman failed to act.

The Knights hammer the spearmen

The Mamluks are hit by the Mounted Sergeants

Both units drove back their opponents, inflicting some losses while suffering none in return. 

The Saracen swordsmen stormed into the Templar spearmen in the village, inflicting heavy losses and battering the unit, but taking some losses themselves, while the archers shot down another mounted sergeant before the Mamluks charged into them and pushed them back, killing another in the process.

The Templar mounted sergeants are hit in a charge and driven back

Shattered by the repeated charges and volleys, the last surviving Templar spearmen fled from the village, while the Templar Knights stormed into and destroyed the remaining Saracen spearmen.

The Knights charge

The spearmen die

The final Mounted Sergeant fled from the Mamluks, hugging the walls to stay out of sight of the Saracen archers.

In retaliation, the Saracen archers shot at the Templar Knights without effect while the Mamluks failed to catch the fleeing Mounted Sergeant. 

The remaining sergeant feels a sudden surge of motivation to ride quickly

In the final turns, the Templar crossbowmen took apart the Mamluks in a pair of volleys, while the Knights smashed apart the swordsmen, losing a man in the process, while the archers took to the hills, realising the day was lost. 

The Knights shatter the forces in the village itself.

The Saracen leader is struck down

The game ended in an emphatic Templar victory, although one paid for with the lives of fifteen of their Sergeants and a Knight. Both side's players had a good time, more importantly, and I expect we'll see more action in Outremer in the future. 

Sir James surveyed the burning village, the pillars of black smoke rising from it cutting across the red sky of twilight. "A heavy price paid." he said to no-one in particular. 

"But a good day's work." Ulrich said from his side, his words slow as he struggled with the unfamiliar tongue and tried to control his thick accent. 

Perhaps he was right, maybe the price was fair, but Sir James couldn't help but feel for the wounded and the dead. "Let us return home." he said, turning his horse away from the village.