Conquest & Expansion Spheniscan Republic

The great formation halts and begins to quickly re-form into defensive formations - the sign of a professional army. The only problem is, yet again, the lack of supply. The archers have already spent most of their arrows, nullifying their impact. The table formation itself is strong, but lacks real maneuverability. The lack of supply again means that unless decisive action is taken they will not be able to hold forever.

The enemy forces are not strong enough to complete an envelopment of the Spheniscan forces, however they converge on the table from the Front, Left & Right Flank, leaving the chance of escape to the rear a possibility. Should the Spheniscan forces yet again retreat it will surely be a blow to morale. The Commander now realises his lack of supply is critical. He faces three options.

1. HOLD & HOPE. He holds his nerve with the table, trusting that the Enemy will decide to launch an assault,

2. OFFENSIVE. He hopes to revert to his previous plan and smash the enemy forces, hopefully enough to break them.

3. RETREAT. Realizing yet again that they have overstretched their supply, he pulls his forces back.

th (5).jpg

 
Suddenly, a carrier eagle delivers a message:
"Commander, this is your king. If you are able to hold out for 6 hours, I am sending 10 supply wagons filled to the brim with supplies."

The Commander shouts, elated, "Hold the lines men! We may still win this one!"

1. HOLD & HOPE. He holds his nerve with the table, trusting that the Enemy will decide to launch an assault,

 
The die is now cast!

The hostile forces do not decide to charge down the Spheniscan forces are they re-adjust their position, Hetman Okurz statting that is "Rude to interrupt your enemy while he is making a state. He sits astride his great war horse, observing the Spheniscan maneuvering. "See that they lack supplies? Their arrows will not harm us here be sure of it. But still, we must dislodge them from our land! Curse these infidels!"

The Light Horsemen on the right flank advance at a canter, skirting by the spear walls - Okurz is testing the Spheniscan forces.

"See! Don't you see I am right? They have no arrows left! Rider - deliver this message to Hetman Boldun at the center and then on to the far left to Chief Wargurz. They are to advance at once!" The rider nods in affirmation, then sets off the battlefield on his pony. Okurz sits back in his horse confidently, a great smile on his face.

The center of the enemy forces, 2000 Milita and 500 Spears advance quickly towards the front of the Spheniscan front liner, before breaking into a final charge just 20 meters away from their target. The two forces collide with bone-cracking impact, spears splintering, shields cracking and men dying. The attackers suffer great losses and many grievious wounds, but they are fierce warriors and start to slowly push the spears back. The enemy spearmen jab forwards to the extreme of both flanks, penning the defenders ever closer together. The Spheniscan commander draws his great longsword, and at the head of 200 Men-at-Arms sallies forth, plugging a small gap that had emerged "Men, to arms! Kill these dogs!" buoyed by their commander, the Men-at-Arms engage in brutal hand-to-hand combat, stopping the enemy from pressing any advantage. Several hundred militia are routed, but before anymore can be routed, a quick spear thrust to the jugular mortally wounds the Spheniscan commander, who swiftly drowns in a pool of his own blood. The battle of the front flank ebbs and flows, with neither side able to make significant tactical advantage. The Spheniscan second-in-command, himself caked in blood and offal, breaks away from the frontline to survey the field, just as the enemy Light Horsemen engage on his right flank!

3.jpg

Hetman Okurz, seeing that the battle for the front is in the balance, and observing several hundred militia fleeing across the field decides to engage. He orders 450 Light Horsemen under his personal command to attack, drawing his great scimitar and lowering his armored visor. "Charge! Hiy-eeeeeeh! Hiy-eeeeeeeh!" The horsemen hit the spearmen full tilt, horses and men flying through the air, spears and swords thudding with the almighty impact. They are lightly armored and the spearmen wreak a hefty toll on them, but in return they start to roll up the Spheniscan right flank. With two sides now engaged, the third side, the left flank of the Spheniscan force prepares for the onslaught of the "corpse fuckers".

1.jpg

Okurz still lives, slicing at anything that moves. He senses a great victory is close, the right flank is being rolled up and the center is being pushed fiercly. Now, he thinks, now the left flank must engage. Victory is in our grasp!

But Okurz is to be disapointed. The "corpse fuckers" have halted their advance. They are cowardly folk, for all their heinous acts and do not fancy dying today. Besides, there are plenty of good looking corpses alreadt - they aren't picky about which side the corpse fought for. They have stopped to fuck corpses that were killed in the initial flurry of arrows. The 50 horsemen sent by Okurz to assist them are incensed, drawing their swords on the corpse fuckers, and a mass brawl breaks out. The new Spheniscan commander, buoyed by the actions of the enemy is quick to act, moving his men from the rear and left flank to reinforce the center and right. 

"Damn those men! They have spoiled my great victory" cries Okurz, as he slices through a spearmans skull, brains splattering across his visor. "Fall back men! Back! Do not run, dogs! You have not lost this day!" The message get through to the frontline, and the militia and spearmen pull back - the militia in general dissoray but the spearmen in reasonably good order. The Spheniscan forces are too spent to pursue their advantage. They will remain here and hold the field until supply and reinforcements can make it through.

View attachment 1873

CONCLUSION - DRAW

Spheniscan forces hold the field but not the region. They must be reinforced next turn to fight again, or they can retreat. Wounded units cannot fight next turn unless healers are sent.

CASUALTIES

Hostile Forces

97 Lighthorsemen Dead / 58 Lighthorsemen Wounded

381 Militia Dead/ 658 Militia Wounded 600 Routed/Defected

68 Spearmen Dead / 89 Spearmen Wounded

Spheniscan Forces

265 Spearmen Dead / 342 Spearmen Wounded

52 Men-at-Arms Dead / 98 Men-at-Arms Wounded

1 Commander Killed

 
Last edited by a moderator:
The Battered Spheniscan force, missing their brave commander and mourning their brothers, is sitting in the field. Suddenly, a great commotion is heard. 10 Supply Wagons, filled to the brim with weapons, armor, food, and basic medicine, appear over the horizon. A new commander, straight from the Capital itself is with them. There is hope yet!

 
"Hurrah! Hurrah! We are saved. The men's spirits are raised. The army is rejuvenated and begins preparations to advance in an open march formation. The new commander is well received, considered one of the finest in the Spheniscan army.

A horn bellows out from beyond a small hillock near the right flank of the army. The commander immediately orders a halt and to take defensive positions where they stand, fearing an ambush. A small troop of armored warriors on horseback, under a white banner ride towards the commander's position.

"Keep your wits about you men, it could be a heathen trick. But stay your weapons for now. You men, with me, now. Hyaah" the commander sets out with his personal bodyguard towards the small troop. They both meet in the middle of the field, staying on their horses.

"My name is Hetman Okurz, commander in chief of the Ferenci Army. You have come to my lands and seek to take what is not yours. Many of you have died by my sword alone. My men had you beaten on the field, but for those mongrel dogs who desecrate the dead. We understand your quarrel with them - we now share it. Your leader fell in battle, and honourable noble death, as good as any great warrior can hope. We no longer wish to fight. My men are spent. In the night we hunted down those damned corpse molesters and made great sport of them. We have taken, their leaders" Orkurz makes a gesture with his hand and points back across the plain. 10 men stand there, bloody and naked bound by ropes "they are yours, if you would will it?" The Sphensican Commander sits steady and sullen in his horse. "We make this proposal to you. You have proven yourselves noble warriors, which I respect. Will you allow us to join your horde? We are worthy soldiers as we have proven on the field. We see your supply train, we see your leaders riches, and we think that is something we would like. We seek blood, gold and glory. Be damned man, have ye no tongue? What say you?"

Should the Spheniscan commander accept the offer, they will receive:

350 Light Horsemen

1 Very Competent General

330 Spearmen

1000 Militia

Should he refuse, there will be another bloody battle.

 
"You would do me and my soldiers a great honor if you and your shoulders would join our army," The commander replies. "However, I cannot accept. Instead I offer you this. Take all your dead, and wounded, and bring them back to our Capital. There, they shall get the finest treatment, and your dead shall get a soldier's burial. You may live in Sphenisca on a reserve soldier's pay, or you may join me as we co-command the entire Spheniscan army, or you may be assigned as the governor of this land. As the king, I have the power to do any of this that you wish. What say you, honorable soldier?"

 
Last edited by a moderator:
"I am surprised by your genorosity, afterall I had heard of such brutality. I have lived in these lands many long years, so I will accept the governorship of my homeland."

 
The Spheniscan forces are relived to find that the only enemy to be found here is a particularly violent and randy ram. The Spheniscan Commander enjoys the ram later that night...for food, of course. There will always be malicious gossip from the citadel after all...

1.jpg

The Spheniscan Republic has gained a small state producing a basic amount of food and taxable peasantry.

 
Back
Top