Flintloque with Regular Infantry!

So after the last game, in which we learned that elite cavalry are brutal, we had a go with regular soldiery. This was also our first game with more than two players. I think it worked out well, but we are going to have to start doing orders with tokens. Dan sent in pictures because I never remember to take any...

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.

Rats Advance!!

The rats, brave but never the sharpest lollipops in the kitbag, formed into their traditional pack formation and headed off towards the Ligne. Who, you may not be able to tell from this picture, were skulking in the woods as pointy-eared fops are wont to. Loading their muskets.

Orcs Reach the Farm Wall

Meanwhile the Orc lads head for the farm. Capt. Aylesbury leads the musketeers to the wall where they exchanged some boring and pointless gunplay with the elves on the wall opposite. Well. It was pointless for the Orcs. The Elves were hitting things and cheering..

Colour Party Moving Around the Farm.

The rest of the Grenadiers advance up into cover and try and work out what to do next. Unfortunately there's only three of them so the thinking is difficult and the answers are not immediately forthcoming.

Less Rats Advance!!

The rats huddle together while moving -- like that's going to protect their decreasing numbers from a section and a half of elves throwing lead at them with varying degrees of competence. Eventually the survivors close on the Voltigeurs and try to bite them. It doesn't go well. The elves outnumber them enough to simply hold them down and stab them. Ow!

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^[1].

The Orcs Make Their Move

Captain Aylesbury decides that the gunfire isn't working (in the sense of; Orc muskets are like Orcs -- loud, but not actually very effective at shooting) and clearly the Orcs were going to come off worst against the better musketry.

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^[2], 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...)


^[1]A note from his mum.
^[2]He was promoted for his ability to unimaginatively stick to the rules.