The dawn was fast approaching... Soon there would be enough light to compromise everything.
-Where is that damned son of turd!
- Erm...My lord van Traitor?
- Oh, sorry my dear Mister Crook. I was lost in thought, thinking about the battle about to begin in a few hours...
- Indeed... Do you have the money?
- Yes I have my dear fellow. Do you have the powder? Good. Long live the King!
- Long live the business, my lord, long live the business...
L'aube approchait. Il y aurait bientot suffisamment de lumiere pour tout compromettre...
-Que fait donc ce foutu fils d'etron!
-Hum... Messire van Traitre?
- Oh, desole mon bon Mr S. Crot. J'etais perdu dans mes pensees, songeant a la bataille a venir...
- Certes... Vous avez l'argent?
- Tout a fait mon cher. Avez-vous la poudre? Bon. Vive le roi!
- Vivent les affaires, messire, vivent les affaires.
On this fateful day, my Parlementarian army faced a Royalist Cornish army, inder the dreaded Richard. Even more dreadful were his units, full of veteran soldiers, who, though ill-equipped, could chop through anyone's army...
I knew I would outshoot him, so I devised a simple yet effective plan: a shooting death trap, using the famous Carthaginian deployment at Cannae. He wouldn't stand a chance. We deployed facing one another, having some enclosed fields on the wings.
En ce jour fatidique, mes Parlementaires faisaient face a l'armee royaliste de Cornouailles, sous les ordres du redoutable Richard. Ses unites etaient encore plus formidables, composees pratiquement entierement de veterans. Je savais que mes hommes tiraient mieux, et par consequent j'ai mis au point un plan simple: une souriciere, me fondant sur les plans du celebre Hannibal a Cannes. Il n'aurait aucune chance. On se deploya donc face a face, ayant des champs clos sur les ailes.
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My newly painted army |
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Some despicable proxies |
When the sun finally rose, the guns started singing... And the Cornish started to move forward. At first, everything went smoothingly: he was walking straight ahead, and my wings were confidently moving forward, ready to position themselves. The first shots were exchanged, and the casualties started to grow... on the Cornish sides... Good was I thinking. Now everything lies in the hands of my leader in the center, general van Traitor. He would have the responsability of holding up while delivering a hail of musket and cannon balls...
Le soleil s'etant enfin leve, les canons entonnerent leur chant... et Les Royalistes se mirent en branle. Tout debuta parfaitement de mon cote: il foncait droit devant, et mes ailes avancaient confiantes, commencant a se positionner. Je commencais meme a lui occasionner des pertes. Tout allait dependre des unites au centre, sous les ordres de van Traitre. C'est lui qui aurait la responsabilite de porter le coup fatal.
And then, suddenly, through the smoke, we saw the ennemy... still moving forward, almost unscathed... What was van Traitor doing? We saw his troops shooting like madmen, but that was ineffective, and the Cornish devils were still advancing... Should they touch us, we would die horribly from corruption and decay.
Indeed, even if my shooting dice were average, even good, his saving throws were just magnificient. I couldn't do anything, and Richard was still moving forward, starting to mulch me like a ripped pear.
Yes indeed, I fared well, but I couldn't do anything. The dreaded curse of the newly painted army had struck, and I got trounced, giving Richard a total victory, and a pass to the next round of the tournament.
Perhaps I 'll do better against Dave Allen, though he's a very experienced player, and the first time I played against him, I lost badly...
Et soudain, a travers la fumee provoquee par les innombrables tirs, nous vimes l'ennemi... continuer a avancer, pratiquement intact. Que faisait donc ce foutu Traitre? Ses hommes tiraient comme des diables, mqis en vain, et les diables de Cornouailles se rapprochaient. Si ils parvenaient au corps-a-corps la messe serait dite.
De fait, si mes des de tirs etaient plus qu'honorables, les jets de moral et de sauvegarde de Richard furent impressionnamts, et il put parvenir au contact, me reduisant progressivement en une douce puree de betteraves picardes.
Las! je fus victime de cette terrible malediction qu'est la premiere bataille d'une armee nouvellemment peinte, et je me suis fait marcher dessus...
Si je veux pouvoir esperer passer au second round du tournoi interne, il va me falloir gagner deux victoire brillantes, dont une contre Dave Allen, un joueur experimente... La derniere partie faite contre lui fut memorable... une branlee subie comme pas permise... Esperons que la malediction sera levee..
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On the right, my only victory |
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my futile attempt to flank him on the right to capture the guns (useless) |