Spanish defeat Carthage 4-0; Carthage loses 2 Wb, 1 Ax, 1 LH.
After the battle, Spain's army is: 5x3Ax, 1x2Ps
Carthage's army is: 2x3Cv, 1x2LH, 3x4Sp, 1x2Ps
No general or camp captured, so no additional losses.
Summary: The Spanish, defending, set up terrain, choosing a BUA and road, two steep hills and a woods. The Carthaginians ended up with the BUA in their deployment areas (not their choice) and gave it a wide berth in set up (and play).
One Spanish Ax was deployed in the BUA. The others, and their lone Ps, were set up in two columns ready to march onto one of the steep hills overlooking the Cartho deployment area. Their LH general set up behind.
The Carthos had two blocks of foot: one of 1 Ax + 2 Wb in column, one of 3 Sp backed by a Ps. The 2 Cv (one a General) were behind these, while the LH were in a column on their outside flank. They sent the LH column on a sweeping move between the steep hills around the Spanish rear, while the Ax+2WB block climbed up the hill to attack the Spanish foot.
The Spanish Ax deployed into a line, supported by their Ps, and waited for the Carthos to come to them. The center Ax (supported and uphill) forced the leading WB (who was overlapped and getting no support because of the BG) to retreat. Then the outside Ax doubled the Cartho Ax (uphill and overlap plus a 5-2 dieroll). When the Wb came back in, joined on their other flank by a Sp, they lost first one Wb, then its follower (two combats in which the Spanish Ax was uphill and supported against a Wb that was overlapped and unsupported: 5-1 even before you get to the dieroll). In at least one of those the Wb was actually double-overlapped, as the Carthos realised that Sp in BG are actually *worse* than Ax.
The Spanish LH(G) fell back away from the Numidians to get them close to the hill, then got close enough to them to be attacked as a line (but not outflanked). The Numidians got a recoil on the overlapped Spanish LH(G), but then an Ax lurking on the hillside closed the door on the righthand Numidian as the LH(G) came back, and the QK ended the game.
Friday, December 10, 2010
another battle in Spain
The king of Iberia was in a terrible fix. Holding together his national alliance of different clans and tribes was never an easy thing at the best of times. Early victories over invaders had led to a sense of overconfidence, and the result had been the painful defeat in his one adventure in Gaul in which his general (and favourite cousin) had been killed by the same cheerful Gauls that he had been buying wine and melons from a month before. They had even sent his head back, packed in snow from the Pyrenees, as what they claimed was a kindly gesture.
Now the temporary truce with Carthage had broken down again as the Sea People decided they wanted to try again to lay claim to a northern holiday spot and trade entrepot. And with severe losses sustained in the last few battles, the Iberian armies were just not up to defeating the might of the sons of Phoenicia.
So the Iberians hunkered down and looked for an opportunity to strike at the invaders on their own terms. An opportunity of sorts presented itself in the hills outside the hill town of the Oretani. The Iberian army, which had been lurking around the flanks of the Carthaginian host, came close enough to threaten the enemy's rear, which caused the Carthaginian army to deploy for action, trying to chase off what they thought was a force of banditti.
Instead, they found a small army (small, but still an army) lurking in the hills above them. Surprisingly steep hills. Very rocky too. As the line of advance troops (auxilia and warbands) climbed up the slope to "chase off those rascals" as their commander had ordered, they found themselves getting short of breath and losing formation. Just as the leader of the warband contingent was beginning to realise that his supports weren't keeping close enough to, well, provide support), their front ranks found themselves in contact with javelin-throwing infantry hidden int he rocks above them. Infantry whose slingers seemed to be able to pick just the right space between files to shoot a stone or two before the ranks closed up again. Things suddenly started looking dicey. They should have fought these savages on level ground. The problem was that level ground seemed very hard to find in these hills.
Below, the leader of the Numidian scouting force was also shaking his head. He hoped that the mission he'd been sent on--to circle around behind the enemy and attack their rear--was feasible. It seemed as if all the Iberians he could see were up on the stony higher ground, a place he wasn't about to lead his scouts. Then ahead he saw a force of light horse. Somethign odd about them, but they were someone he could fight. He turned and waved to his column leaders to spread out. They could envelop the enemy's right and sweep them up, if they moved quickly.
The Carthaginian general frowned. Things on the hill seemed to be progressing slowly, if at all. He gestured to the polemarch commanding the phalanx to send some of him men up there to help with the fight. Where were the Numidians? They should have ridden all the way around the enemy by now; the Spanish had no horse to fight, so the scouts should be in position to ride down the stragglers his foot would surely be chasing off those hills any time now.
The foot were not so sure. First their allied scutarii had been beaten and fled the field. Then the leader of the warbands and his leading troops had been cut off in a ravine and decimated by enemy who rolled rocks downhill on them peppering them with light spears and sling stones. Now the spearmen who had come up from the main army were finding it nearly impossible to keep their formation on the difficult ground of the mountainside. Screams from the other side of the hill resembled horses being hamstrung and gutted--normally just a part of battle, but they knew the Iberians had no horse, so it could only be their own troops suffering. Now... another avalanche of boulders were followed by a screaming horde of swordsmen. The last of the warbands fled...
As they trailed back down the coast, the Carthaginian general pondered how things could have gone so wrong. Sending the warband up into the hill to figh the Spanish auxiliaries had not worked out well, admittedly, and reinforcing them with spearmen had been his only option, but a poor one in retrospect. He still could not puzzle out what had happened to his Numidians. The survivors insisted they had driven back a force of light horsemen only to be ambushed and broken when the lighthorsemen turned back to fight again and a band of swordsmen had appeared from the rocks on the Numidians' flank and started hamstringing their horses. An ambush like that was typical of Iberian mountain fighting and their adroit use of combined arms. But eh Spanish *had no horse*! All his scouting reports had confirmed this.
And as for the story of their being led by a warleader with no head...
Now the temporary truce with Carthage had broken down again as the Sea People decided they wanted to try again to lay claim to a northern holiday spot and trade entrepot. And with severe losses sustained in the last few battles, the Iberian armies were just not up to defeating the might of the sons of Phoenicia.
So the Iberians hunkered down and looked for an opportunity to strike at the invaders on their own terms. An opportunity of sorts presented itself in the hills outside the hill town of the Oretani. The Iberian army, which had been lurking around the flanks of the Carthaginian host, came close enough to threaten the enemy's rear, which caused the Carthaginian army to deploy for action, trying to chase off what they thought was a force of banditti.
Instead, they found a small army (small, but still an army) lurking in the hills above them. Surprisingly steep hills. Very rocky too. As the line of advance troops (auxilia and warbands) climbed up the slope to "chase off those rascals" as their commander had ordered, they found themselves getting short of breath and losing formation. Just as the leader of the warband contingent was beginning to realise that his supports weren't keeping close enough to, well, provide support), their front ranks found themselves in contact with javelin-throwing infantry hidden int he rocks above them. Infantry whose slingers seemed to be able to pick just the right space between files to shoot a stone or two before the ranks closed up again. Things suddenly started looking dicey. They should have fought these savages on level ground. The problem was that level ground seemed very hard to find in these hills.
Below, the leader of the Numidian scouting force was also shaking his head. He hoped that the mission he'd been sent on--to circle around behind the enemy and attack their rear--was feasible. It seemed as if all the Iberians he could see were up on the stony higher ground, a place he wasn't about to lead his scouts. Then ahead he saw a force of light horse. Somethign odd about them, but they were someone he could fight. He turned and waved to his column leaders to spread out. They could envelop the enemy's right and sweep them up, if they moved quickly.
The Carthaginian general frowned. Things on the hill seemed to be progressing slowly, if at all. He gestured to the polemarch commanding the phalanx to send some of him men up there to help with the fight. Where were the Numidians? They should have ridden all the way around the enemy by now; the Spanish had no horse to fight, so the scouts should be in position to ride down the stragglers his foot would surely be chasing off those hills any time now.
The foot were not so sure. First their allied scutarii had been beaten and fled the field. Then the leader of the warbands and his leading troops had been cut off in a ravine and decimated by enemy who rolled rocks downhill on them peppering them with light spears and sling stones. Now the spearmen who had come up from the main army were finding it nearly impossible to keep their formation on the difficult ground of the mountainside. Screams from the other side of the hill resembled horses being hamstrung and gutted--normally just a part of battle, but they knew the Iberians had no horse, so it could only be their own troops suffering. Now... another avalanche of boulders were followed by a screaming horde of swordsmen. The last of the warbands fled...
As they trailed back down the coast, the Carthaginian general pondered how things could have gone so wrong. Sending the warband up into the hill to figh the Spanish auxiliaries had not worked out well, admittedly, and reinforcing them with spearmen had been his only option, but a poor one in retrospect. He still could not puzzle out what had happened to his Numidians. The survivors insisted they had driven back a force of light horsemen only to be ambushed and broken when the lighthorsemen turned back to fight again and a band of swordsmen had appeared from the rocks on the Numidians' flank and started hamstringing their horses. An ambush like that was typical of Iberian mountain fighting and their adroit use of combined arms. But eh Spanish *had no horse*! All his scouting reports had confirmed this.
And as for the story of their being led by a warleader with no head...
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Peace and War!
The war between Syracuse and Spain ends.
Both Syracuse and Bruttia declare war on Gaul!
Both Syracuse and Bruttia declare war on Gaul!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
new world order
The Summer 213 map, after Rome's defeat by Bruttia. I've taken the liberty of adding placenames to spruce up the rather bland Rome 1, Rome 2, etc.
Syracuse, Carthage, and Rome, being city-states have the same name for their capital as for their "state".
Syracuse, Carthage, and Rome, being city-states have the same name for their capital as for their "state".
Friday, October 22, 2010
a sharp reverse
The Gallic army streamed over the rolling fields toward the hill. The mass of the army, swordsmen on foot, formed a solid block in the center, cheering and shouting as they trotted along in search of the foe whom scouts had assured their war leader, Thikasbrix, were drawn up nearby. The cavalry trotted along to their right, chatting about their forthcoming prowess in battle (and later with the recently widowed Spanish ladies). Thikasbrix pondered in his chariot behind the army, while his driver watched the capering of the young men who acted as skirmisers, who were tailing behind their fathers, elder brothers, and cousins.
The great mass of warriors raced towards the rocky hill, looking to reach its heights before the enemy could seize them. But when they approached the crest they saw it would be their uncontested--the Spanish had halted in the woods at the bottom of the hill, while their horsemen held the open ground to the east, their fine Spanish stallions prancing and curvetting in impatience.
Thikasbrix, who had urged his mounted troops to the west in hopes they could sweep the enemy's flank, gestured wildly, calling them back to the Gallic army's left flank where they could fight best in the open (though they would have to get over the hill first). His warriors on the hill, seeing his waving, took it for the command to attack and poured down the ridge, waving their blades and shields.
The Spanish commander mopped his brow. If only his men would follow his plan and keep to the woods, where the swordsmen and their supporting javelineers could use the rocky groves to disrupt the feared rush of the Celtic a warriors and fight them on a more even footing. But what was this? Cavalry were advancing behind him, Greek by the look of them. These must be the Syrcusan force that his spies had reported were en route. A party of light horse rode straight for his camp, followed by a denser body of horsemen with spears and armour. He gestured to his trumpeter, who signalled to his bodyguard that they should turn about and move to cut off the horsemen approaching their baggage train.
The first Gauls raced down the hill and without stopping to take breath, plunged into the shade of the oaks and pines where the Iberians were waiting for them. One party, screaming and hacking with equal gusto, put to flight a number of Spaniards, slaying most of them as they fled. But their brothers on either side ran into a more solid defense, and the penetration of the Spanish line was quickly isolated and contained. As the eager Gauls suddenly realised their dangerous position, more of the dusky southerners swarmed around their flanks, swamping portions of the Gallic line and driving other parts of it back. Surrounded and seemingly outnumbered, one band of swordsmen after another were cut down or, broken, fled the field. Thikasbrix, dismayed, sounded the recall and began to plan his explanation for the sudden and unexpected defeat. He had outnumbered his enemy, and the islandmen from the east had sent horsemen to lengthen the odds even further. But here his forces were streaming backwards in rout, and the Greeks (with, it looked like, quite disgusted looks on their faces) were calmly retiring from the battlefield, watched carefully by the Spanish horsemen. Something had gone badly, badly wrong...
The great mass of warriors raced towards the rocky hill, looking to reach its heights before the enemy could seize them. But when they approached the crest they saw it would be their uncontested--the Spanish had halted in the woods at the bottom of the hill, while their horsemen held the open ground to the east, their fine Spanish stallions prancing and curvetting in impatience.
Thikasbrix, who had urged his mounted troops to the west in hopes they could sweep the enemy's flank, gestured wildly, calling them back to the Gallic army's left flank where they could fight best in the open (though they would have to get over the hill first). His warriors on the hill, seeing his waving, took it for the command to attack and poured down the ridge, waving their blades and shields.
The Spanish commander mopped his brow. If only his men would follow his plan and keep to the woods, where the swordsmen and their supporting javelineers could use the rocky groves to disrupt the feared rush of the Celtic a warriors and fight them on a more even footing. But what was this? Cavalry were advancing behind him, Greek by the look of them. These must be the Syrcusan force that his spies had reported were en route. A party of light horse rode straight for his camp, followed by a denser body of horsemen with spears and armour. He gestured to his trumpeter, who signalled to his bodyguard that they should turn about and move to cut off the horsemen approaching their baggage train.
The first Gauls raced down the hill and without stopping to take breath, plunged into the shade of the oaks and pines where the Iberians were waiting for them. One party, screaming and hacking with equal gusto, put to flight a number of Spaniards, slaying most of them as they fled. But their brothers on either side ran into a more solid defense, and the penetration of the Spanish line was quickly isolated and contained. As the eager Gauls suddenly realised their dangerous position, more of the dusky southerners swarmed around their flanks, swamping portions of the Gallic line and driving other parts of it back. Surrounded and seemingly outnumbered, one band of swordsmen after another were cut down or, broken, fled the field. Thikasbrix, dismayed, sounded the recall and began to plan his explanation for the sudden and unexpected defeat. He had outnumbered his enemy, and the islandmen from the east had sent horsemen to lengthen the odds even further. But here his forces were streaming backwards in rout, and the Greeks (with, it looked like, quite disgusted looks on their faces) were calmly retiring from the battlefield, watched carefully by the Spanish horsemen. Something had gone badly, badly wrong...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
In the midst of war, an outburst of peace!
With all the threats of war and rapine, Spain throws out an olive branch to Carthage, which is deftly caught and returned by the battered sea peoples. The Med's first war ends as its newest moves into high gear. Gauls spill over the passes into Iberia! Who will win the battle(s) for Hispania?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Hear ye! Hear ye!
In the temples of the gods of peace and war, the following announcements are made:
In the Temple of Eirene, in the city of Syracuse, a dozen doves are released as the Tyrant declares his state of war with the Romans at an end.
Across town in the Temple of Enyo, a black bull is slaughtered and the blood is used to paint the doors of the ambassador from Spain. Syracuse declares war against Iberia!
In Gaul they are a bit more homespun. The Spanish ambassador is greeted at his gate as he returns one evening from dinner with certain local businessman. A party are waiting for him dressed as Broad-Chested Cicoluis, God of Battle, and his minions. They clap the ambassador in the skin of a freshly killed deer and pummel him with rods before dumping him in a vat of mead.* A different take on the ceremony, but clear nonetheless: Gaul also is at war with the Spanish!
I will post a new map in a few minutes. Syracuse will have the first move in 213. His army starts in western Sicily. Other armies will be revealed as they move, are invaded, or send contingents.
* Rumours that the heralds then pulled the ambassador out and held an impromptu party with him and his staff, consuming all the mead, the deer (roasted), and a large quantity of other game cannot be confirmed, but knowing the Gauls are quite believeable.
In the Temple of Eirene, in the city of Syracuse, a dozen doves are released as the Tyrant declares his state of war with the Romans at an end.
Across town in the Temple of Enyo, a black bull is slaughtered and the blood is used to paint the doors of the ambassador from Spain. Syracuse declares war against Iberia!
In Gaul they are a bit more homespun. The Spanish ambassador is greeted at his gate as he returns one evening from dinner with certain local businessman. A party are waiting for him dressed as Broad-Chested Cicoluis, God of Battle, and his minions. They clap the ambassador in the skin of a freshly killed deer and pummel him with rods before dumping him in a vat of mead.* A different take on the ceremony, but clear nonetheless: Gaul also is at war with the Spanish!
I will post a new map in a few minutes. Syracuse will have the first move in 213. His army starts in western Sicily. Other armies will be revealed as they move, are invaded, or send contingents.
* Rumours that the heralds then pulled the ambassador out and held an impromptu party with him and his staff, consuming all the mead, the deer (roasted), and a large quantity of other game cannot be confirmed, but knowing the Gauls are quite believeable.
An Extended Hiatus
With the rapid and near-utter collapse of Rome in 214, the balance of power shifted around the Mediterranean is a drastic way. And the winter was spent in so much diplomacy that the price of post horses rose over 200% and most merchantmen willing to sail in the stormy months around the year's end began outfitting their staterooms with gilt charcoal heaters and gold-embroidered, red silk velvet sleeping hammocks (as well as seasickness bags of the finest linen...)
Syracuse sent messengers to Bruttia and Gaul. Gaul sent envoys to Syracuse, Spain, and Carthage. Syracuse sent more messengers to Bruttia. Bruttia sent diplomats back to Syracuse (possibly meeting more Syracusan heralds on their way). Gaul eventually heard from Spain and Carthage (there were delays over the Pyrenees, apparently). Judging from the way the Head Gaul screwed up the dispatch and threw it into the brazier, it would appear that he didn't like what the Spanish had to say. More feverish missive writing took place overnight, and messengers set out from Gaul the next day en route to Syracuse. They received a hearing and brought Syracusan heralds back with them when they came home.
Now it's gotten quiet.
Too quiet...
Syracuse sent messengers to Bruttia and Gaul. Gaul sent envoys to Syracuse, Spain, and Carthage. Syracuse sent more messengers to Bruttia. Bruttia sent diplomats back to Syracuse (possibly meeting more Syracusan heralds on their way). Gaul eventually heard from Spain and Carthage (there were delays over the Pyrenees, apparently). Judging from the way the Head Gaul screwed up the dispatch and threw it into the brazier, it would appear that he didn't like what the Spanish had to say. More feverish missive writing took place overnight, and messengers set out from Gaul the next day en route to Syracuse. They received a hearing and brought Syracusan heralds back with them when they came home.
Now it's gotten quiet.
Too quiet...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Rome pulls it out (what? maybe a finger...)
OK, so who had how much on which army at what odds?
Sure enough, the Romans (mostly because of their new Gallic overlords...) pull the proverbial cat out of the proverbial hat. What? A rabbit? That makes no sense at all--have you ever stuck a cat in a hat and then pulled it out? Do you know how angry it is? Rabbits? Faugh!
Anyway... with some luck and some good timing and a Gaelic-speaking mounted arm, the tricksy Romans manage to beat the Bruttii 4-0. No camps or generals went down, so no extra losses. The Bruttii are 3 Ax and a Ps poorer. The Gauls gain 2 prestige and so do the Romans (honours were even in today's Calabrian-killing event).
The Bruttii fall back on Bruttia 2 (*cough* assuming that Syracuse lets them through...) and we move on to Syracuse's turn.
Battle report here.
Sure enough, the Romans (mostly because of their new Gallic overlords...) pull the proverbial cat out of the proverbial hat. What? A rabbit? That makes no sense at all--have you ever stuck a cat in a hat and then pulled it out? Do you know how angry it is? Rabbits? Faugh!
Anyway... with some luck and some good timing and a Gaelic-speaking mounted arm, the tricksy Romans manage to beat the Bruttii 4-0. No camps or generals went down, so no extra losses. The Bruttii are 3 Ax and a Ps poorer. The Gauls gain 2 prestige and so do the Romans (honours were even in today's Calabrian-killing event).
The Bruttii fall back on Bruttia 2 (*cough* assuming that Syracuse lets them through...) and we move on to Syracuse's turn.
Battle report here.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Latium falls to the Syrcusan army (and the Gauls, and the Bruttii...)
A dark day for Rome! Their fierce defense of Latium has been in vain. Due to the rapid arrival of the Syrcusans' allies, the battle swung against Rome in the seventh turn, and the Roman army broke and, fighting, fell.
Rome lost its Cav general in combat on Turn 3, but actually kept fighting because it had already killed off a rash Syrcusan LH. It lost a Blade to the Gauls on Turn 7, but even that wouldn't have broken the warrior spirit of that gallant band, as their lead Blade, fighting at odds of 3:1 for several turns, had previously killed off a Syrcusan Spear.
What broke the back of the Roman Army was the Gallic leader charging with his chariot riders (presumably on foot...) over the parapet of the Romans' marching camp and beginning to sack the sutlers' supplies of wine and goodies. "Save the boys in the baggage!" cried the Primus Pilus, sounding strangely like Ian Holm in Kenneth Branagh's Henry V, and "Who will protect the washer-women?" was the shout raised by the Tribune of the Plebs (played by Terry Jones).
Rome lost its Cav general in combat on Turn 3, but actually kept fighting because it had already killed off a rash Syrcusan LH. It lost a Blade to the Gauls on Turn 7, but even that wouldn't have broken the warrior spirit of that gallant band, as their lead Blade, fighting at odds of 3:1 for several turns, had previously killed off a Syrcusan Spear.
What broke the back of the Roman Army was the Gallic leader charging with his chariot riders (presumably on foot...) over the parapet of the Romans' marching camp and beginning to sack the sutlers' supplies of wine and goodies. "Save the boys in the baggage!" cried the Primus Pilus, sounding strangely like Ian Holm in Kenneth Branagh's Henry V, and "Who will protect the washer-women?" was the shout raised by the Tribune of the Plebs (played by Terry Jones).
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Upcoming battle
Rome is gasping and against the ropes, with Syracuse coming in swinging! Rome lost its northern territories to the Gauls; then it lost the southern lands it had seized from Bruttia. Now its next-to-last territory is under threat, as enemy ships beach on the Bay of Naples bearing grim-faced foemen and cavalry ride up from the south bearing banners emblazoned with the great tree of the Forest Sila.
The Roman army has staggered forward to defend Latium (Rome 1), with perhaps more hope than certitude. The thin Roman ranks number only 7 elements, while the Enemies of Rome roll in with 16! (10 from Syracuse and allied contingents of 3 each from Bruttia and Gaul)
Will the plucky Romans maneuver their way out of the path of this powerful haymaker? Or will they prove to have a glass jaw and go down for the count? Only the gods of war know for sure (and they're not telling!)
The Roman army has staggered forward to defend Latium (Rome 1), with perhaps more hope than certitude. The thin Roman ranks number only 7 elements, while the Enemies of Rome roll in with 16! (10 from Syracuse and allied contingents of 3 each from Bruttia and Gaul)
Will the plucky Romans maneuver their way out of the path of this powerful haymaker? Or will they prove to have a glass jaw and go down for the count? Only the gods of war know for sure (and they're not telling!)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
A Crushing Blow in Calabria
Last season, the Roman army had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and withdrew in the face of the surging Bruttian hordes. Their legate's confidence in the garrison commander he left behind in Naples seemed justified by the stout way that they resisted the assaults of the angry Bruttii upon the walls of their citadel (a pronoun of uncertain antecedent, as the citadel might be currently held by the Romans, but it originally belonged to those who now sought to wrench open its gates and soak its stones with the blood of its defenders).
And soak it they did, as the might (or was it the trickery?) of the city's original owners would not be denied. Come the dawn of midsummer, the banner of the Forest Sila once again floated above the ramparts in the morning breeze, and none but the crows knew where the velites and hastati left behind to hold the gates and walls were now to be found.
And soak it they did, as the might (or was it the trickery?) of the city's original owners would not be denied. Come the dawn of midsummer, the banner of the Forest Sila once again floated above the ramparts in the morning breeze, and none but the crows knew where the velites and hastati left behind to hold the gates and walls were now to be found.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Spring 214 Gallic move
Dire news the heralds bear this day to Rome! The army, led by the legate T. Durmius Ahala, has been defeated despite battling with great bravery against superior numbers. Romanus Secundus has been abandoned to the enemy as the field army has fallen back on (Roman player's choice: Rome or Romanus Primus). Three tribunes of the people fell on the plain of Mars; elections for their successors will be held shortly. Refugees are already arriving at the gates of the city.
I'm about to leave on a break (a week in the Highlands!), so I will try to file a full battle report when I return (hopefully with pictures). It was very close-run, with the Romans hoping at first to use their mounted arm to outflank the Gauls before the Syrcusans showed up, but being hampered by redeployments by the Gauls at start and a string of bad pip dice (6,5 to begin with, then 2,1,1,1,1--if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it). The Syrcusans didn't turn up until Turn 7, and when they did they didn't actually *do* much, but they did keep the Roman left flank pinned down. Once the battlelines ran together, the Romans had to make the best of a bad job and press hard where they could get overlaps and flanks. The element of Titus Durmius (fighting among the princeps) actually killed off an element of Gallic skirmishers (so much for the deadliness of teenagers with stones), but the Gauls won the battle of broken-field fighting.
Final result: 4-3 Gaul
Gauls lose 2 Wb, 1 Ps; Romans lose 2 Bd, 1 Cv, 1 Ps; Syracusans lose no elements but kill none either.
Gauls earn 1 prestige point and capture the city.
Updated map when I return.
I'm about to leave on a break (a week in the Highlands!), so I will try to file a full battle report when I return (hopefully with pictures). It was very close-run, with the Romans hoping at first to use their mounted arm to outflank the Gauls before the Syrcusans showed up, but being hampered by redeployments by the Gauls at start and a string of bad pip dice (6,5 to begin with, then 2,1,1,1,1--if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it). The Syrcusans didn't turn up until Turn 7, and when they did they didn't actually *do* much, but they did keep the Roman left flank pinned down. Once the battlelines ran together, the Romans had to make the best of a bad job and press hard where they could get overlaps and flanks. The element of Titus Durmius (fighting among the princeps) actually killed off an element of Gallic skirmishers (so much for the deadliness of teenagers with stones), but the Gauls won the battle of broken-field fighting.
Final result: 4-3 Gaul
Gauls lose 2 Wb, 1 Ps; Romans lose 2 Bd, 1 Cv, 1 Ps; Syracusans lose no elements but kill none either.
Gauls earn 1 prestige point and capture the city.
Updated map when I return.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Spring 214
As the Middle Sea waits for the outcome of the Gallo-Roman battle...
(Sorry, the map should show the presence of the gallant Roman army defending their border against the Gallic foe and their Syracusan allies [Cavalry (General), Light Horse, and a Psiloi])
Friday, August 27, 2010
The First Battle of Spring 214
The watch commander, ashen faced, turned to question the courier again. Perhaps there had been a mistake--maybe he was from a diverted column rather than the main army, or had received a head wound that jumbled his memory, or even came as a ploy from the enemy to cause dismay and panic. But he knew in his heart that none of these explanations were true.
"Tell me again!" he roughly ordered the messenger.
"Well, sir, it's as I told you. We found the Spanish waiting for us. They had deployed behind some woods, but our light troops moved through those with ease--they didn't try to contest them. They stood up a line of their feeble sort of foot that our phalanx should have made short work of, and our horse began sweeping down the road to ride around their left flank.
But their general--he was a demon! He was leading their horse, and they fought like wild beasts! First they rode down some of our foot, auxilia backed by psiloi. Our commander took them seriously then, and committed our own horse and the Numidians to overcoming that flank while our warband and spears took their line apart. But they were too fast for us, and too good at broken field fighting. No sooner had we started pressing their left wing than the whole fight there got very confused. It was nip and tuck, a real swirling melee, but somehow we went in with more men and came out with fewer.
The Numidians got cut to pieces first, then the commander, he said something about how no bunch of trumped-up Spanish brigands on wild ponies were going to make fools of Punic noblemen, sons of Qart-ḥadašt, and he led the cavalry into the melee. There was a lot of cheering, sir, and it looked as if they were giving as good as they got. But then..."
His voice trailed away.
"How did it happen?" demanded the watch commander.
"I don't know, sir. I was returning from delivering a message to the foot on the far wing, who were looking set to turn the Spanish right flank and roll up their army. The fighting on our right had been fierce after the commander went in, so I was waiting for him to pull back so I could deliver the good news from the flank. Then I heard a great yell... his standard went down... what remained of our horse started fleeing away, with their cavalry chasing after, screaming like devils and cutting men down right and left. I caught one man, and he said the strategos had been killed by a Spanish cavalryman, gutted like a fish with one of their damned swords. So I went in search of the boetarch, who tried to pull the army together and retreat as best as he could. They're still on the road here, being mostly foot, but he sent me ahead to warn you to be ready. The Spanish will be out for blood now, and you know with them it's not their army so much to fear as all the bandits that lurk around our supply trains and outposts, looking for easy prey and nailing up the odd scout or straggler they capture. He said you were to pull in all the smaller outposts and be ready in case of a siege...."
A word-picture in recompense for lack of photographs. We played out the Carthage-Spain battle last night, with Frank/Kontos taking the part of Carthage and Josh commanding the Spanish. A tremendous upset victory for Spain, who won 4G-1, losing one Ax while killing off a Cav(G), LH, Ax, and Ps. Carthage will lose two additional elements for the loss of his general. Spain gains 3 prestige for the troop destruction differential plus 2 for slaying the Carthaginian strategos. That makes them, at 15, tied with Carthage for third place. Carthage's army falls back to its base in Spain 2.
I believe that makes it Spain's move.
"Tell me again!" he roughly ordered the messenger.
"Well, sir, it's as I told you. We found the Spanish waiting for us. They had deployed behind some woods, but our light troops moved through those with ease--they didn't try to contest them. They stood up a line of their feeble sort of foot that our phalanx should have made short work of, and our horse began sweeping down the road to ride around their left flank.
But their general--he was a demon! He was leading their horse, and they fought like wild beasts! First they rode down some of our foot, auxilia backed by psiloi. Our commander took them seriously then, and committed our own horse and the Numidians to overcoming that flank while our warband and spears took their line apart. But they were too fast for us, and too good at broken field fighting. No sooner had we started pressing their left wing than the whole fight there got very confused. It was nip and tuck, a real swirling melee, but somehow we went in with more men and came out with fewer.
The Numidians got cut to pieces first, then the commander, he said something about how no bunch of trumped-up Spanish brigands on wild ponies were going to make fools of Punic noblemen, sons of Qart-ḥadašt, and he led the cavalry into the melee. There was a lot of cheering, sir, and it looked as if they were giving as good as they got. But then..."
His voice trailed away.
"How did it happen?" demanded the watch commander.
"I don't know, sir. I was returning from delivering a message to the foot on the far wing, who were looking set to turn the Spanish right flank and roll up their army. The fighting on our right had been fierce after the commander went in, so I was waiting for him to pull back so I could deliver the good news from the flank. Then I heard a great yell... his standard went down... what remained of our horse started fleeing away, with their cavalry chasing after, screaming like devils and cutting men down right and left. I caught one man, and he said the strategos had been killed by a Spanish cavalryman, gutted like a fish with one of their damned swords. So I went in search of the boetarch, who tried to pull the army together and retreat as best as he could. They're still on the road here, being mostly foot, but he sent me ahead to warn you to be ready. The Spanish will be out for blood now, and you know with them it's not their army so much to fear as all the bandits that lurk around our supply trains and outposts, looking for easy prey and nailing up the odd scout or straggler they capture. He said you were to pull in all the smaller outposts and be ready in case of a siege...."
A word-picture in recompense for lack of photographs. We played out the Carthage-Spain battle last night, with Frank/Kontos taking the part of Carthage and Josh commanding the Spanish. A tremendous upset victory for Spain, who won 4G-1, losing one Ax while killing off a Cav(G), LH, Ax, and Ps. Carthage will lose two additional elements for the loss of his general. Spain gains 3 prestige for the troop destruction differential plus 2 for slaying the Carthaginian strategos. That makes them, at 15, tied with Carthage for third place. Carthage's army falls back to its base in Spain 2.
I believe that makes it Spain's move.
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