Mission: Capture the Farm.
British: Brought a unit of 8 Grenadiers (average/regulars, a captain, sergeant, a flag, a drummer and four lads). Along with them are 8 Scots Rats (mix of raw/reg and exp/reg, they have a captain and a piper).
French: 10 Voltigeurs (a mix of experiences, led on this occasion by a Sergent) and a Ligne company (10 Elves, led by a Lieutenant).
By dint of Dan and myself being say on different edges of the table we kind of defaulted into a valiant two pronged assault while the Elves lounged about brushing their hair.
|Orcs Reach the Farm Wall|
|Colour Party Moving Around the Farm.|
|Less Rats Advance!!|
Several Rats cannae tek it na mo' and run squeaking. One is later hung by the provosts for leaving the field without the correct paperwork.
|The Orcs Make Their Move|
Instead he leads those Orcs armed with suitable weapons on a charge across the courtyard to fight the Elves face-to-face. There's hacking with swords and spontoons, but the wall in the way reduces the effectiveness. Eventually, Sergeant Dunstable remembered that he's a Grenadier and that he brought grenades!! In the most effective move of the battle he hurls a bunch at the Elf forces and in a crowning moment of awesome, hits the Voltiguer section leader. As the world is filled with the pitter-patter of bits of Elf falling from the sky, the section takes a morale check and an Elf runs away. (He is also later hung by provosts for not sticking around until the final whistle.)
But it's too late. Having shot, stabbed or routed all the Rats, the Ligne company is now rounding the farm and the brave Orcs are desperately, desperately outnumbered. The ones in the courtyard continue to run about waving swords and bayonets, but every turn they're not in hand-to-hand, there's a batch of Elves thumping them with close range musketry and the ground is getting thick with bodies.
Now, in our defence, when the game ended, the courtyard was actually held by an actual brave Orc. But he was outnumbered about 15 to 1 so he wasn't a particularly good candidate for longevity. And we did also save the Colours: Ensign Lootin decided that beetling for the table-edge was the better part of valour. But sadly the farm really does seem to belong to the French and at a surprisingly small cost to them.
(It's OK, we'll shell it tomorrow...)
A note from his mum.
He was promoted for his ability to unimaginatively stick to the rules.