Battle of the Border Hills

The Roundshiers and Raider Marines set off down the hill first. Each unit taking a different flank and moving to surround the orcish barabarians. They had been given orders not to allow any enemy to flee the battlefield. They would keep a brisk pace as they move to encircle the enemy.

Atop the hill General Pjjokhat was given command of the Jotun Longbowmen and Archers along with the Marines from his own ships. They were to rain death upon the foe while the encirclement force and the main battle line moved forward.

The main battle line would consist of the Jotun Greatswords and Halbierdiers with Thane Gudrick imbedded with the Halberdiers. They would move down the hill at a leisurly pace to give the General plenty of time to bring his cannons and the jotun bows to bear. He gave his men orders that the orcish commander was to be taken alive if possible, or at least not to be mangled beyond recognition.

Summary

-500 roundshiers and 125 raider marines move to each flank to surround the orcs and intercept any fleeing units. Units are quick marching.
-The Longboman, Archers, Human marines and horse artillery open fire on the orcs. General Pjjokhat directs the fire.
-Thane Gudrick takes command of the shock and Halberdiers (embedded in the Halberds) to attack the orcs. units advance at a walk
-Jotun Marines held in reserve

Today, the Jotun Clans would learn just how fierce a foe the Wastelanders could be.  For ages, they had always been stronger and more ferocious than the adversaries they faced, and even the Survaekom victory against them was more by technology than by warrior prowess.  But now, the giants of the sea had finally met another people with the fiery blood of reavers and berserkers running through their veins.

"Waaaaaaaagh!"  "DIE SHEEP-FUCKERS!"  "For the Blood Gooooods!"  Thane Gudrik knew these were not the cries of Surv-Akur squares or elven rangers.  They were far more familiar, eerily so.  And these orcs were quick, too quick.  Gudrik's troops were not following his orders fast enough to keep up.

"Charge, damn you!  CHARGE!"  The response was confused: None of the giant soldiers here had lived long enough to remember a fight where the enemy didn't try to save itself with covered retreats or defensive tactics.  They struggled to shift formation and muster a charge, all while the orcish barbed pikes and wicked halberds approached before their eyes.  And the arrows...somehow things were different than they had been in Beg Guhrim.  The winds of fate, or in this case the actual winds, favored the orcs today: All three longbow volleys landed right on target, devastating the lighter-armored Jotun shock troops in particular.  A frightening number of the projectiles were barbed, flaming, or poisoned.  Whatever chance the Jotun had of meeting the Wastelanders in a proper counter-charge crumbled under a quick succession of orcish volleys.   

One of the nastier arrows, a mess of barbs dripped in acid, made it just past Thane Gudrik's noseguard and cut across his face before lodging itself in his ear.  Practically half of his cheek was ripped off, and a mess of skin and flesh hung limp from just above his left jaw.  His ear was still in one piece, but the arrow did not make for an especially attractive earing.  The muscle, sinews, and fat left alive burned as if the noble lord's head had caught fire as the acidic potion sunk into the wound.  It was nothing fatal, but it would be a moment Gudrik would remember for the rest of his life.

In one of history's most striking ironies, the Survaekom humans were actually better prepared for the situation than the proud Jotun.

"Archers, nock arrows and fire on my mark!  Marines, assume skirmish formation and fire at will!"  General Pjjokhat spat out orders in quick succession as he watched the unexpected bloodletting unfold.  The hard reality was that he would have to let the giants draw first blood, but that didn't mean he couldn't offer a repartee before the charge connected.

"Archeres, FIRE!"  Five-hundred spear-sized arrows whooshed through the air.  The giants had aimed a little too high, but enough hit their marks to send a message.  The Wastelanders' middle and rear lines suddenly found themselves with dozens of lopped-off heads and limbs along with several armfuls of completely-impaled warriors.  But with the front mostly untouched, the charge continued at full pace.  The marines did a little better, but there were a meager one-hundred of them and only time for each to fire a single musket ball.

Then, finally, the two bodies connected in a deafening crash of metal and battle-cries.  Thane Gudrik's bodyguard and the greater formation of halberds was able to hold its own: The high ground, the giants' natural height, the length of their weapons, and their solid armor made their unit an incredibly tough nut to crack.  Many orcs were stopped in their tracks by downswings that cracked their heads open or sliced their bodies in twain, or thrusts that pierced chests and shattered dozens of ribs at a time, before they could even reach their opponents.  But enough of those behind, with more and more pikemen relative to halberdiers, got their spearheads to the enemy lines to embroil the elite Jotun unit in a grinding melee.

The Greatsword, in contrast, were devastated.  They were less organized, less trained, and less armored than their peers, and they were the types of soldiers who preferred charging to being charged at.  The rear ranks watched in horror as their comrades in the front were felled in droves by creatures half their size.  The proud Greatswords, until now the most esteemed veterans of Jotun raids, were turned into pincushions or sliced and diced as if the wasteland orcs were amateur cooks trying to prepare a fine meal.  Needless to say, it was not a pretty sight.

As more of Yontai Furtaker's army made it to the battle, particularly the pikes and archers, even Gudrik's professionals were beginning to feel a little too much weight.  They faced a deadly mix of pikes, halberds, and handweapons on two sides, and though the formation stood strong casualties were mounting.  The Greatswords, for their part, were about ready to run to live and fight another day.  It was only intervention by their Surv-Akur ally, General Pjjokhat himself, that kept them from shattering completely. 

Stae Pjjokhat was not one to let the enemy break the front lines and come to him, though he had ordered the horse artillery to unlimber and load canister to prepare for the possibility.  He preferred to bring the fight to his opponents, personally if necessary.  He and his one-hundred Khaitis Knights galloped down with a cry in unison: "For the Emperor!" followed by the cracks of pistol-shot peppering the orcish right flank.  Then, with lances couched, their own charge connected.  It was messy business, and more than a few knights found spearheads slicing between armor-plates or hooks pulling them off their horses.  But it was enough to slow the wastelanders' momentum on the flank.

Now, the battle would be decided by the few cards each side had not yet played.  For the Jotun, these were their flanking wings, which were running their way back to the main body.  With the right direction, they might be able to turn the tide of battle.  For the Wastelanders, there was only one card, Yontai Furtaker himself and his elite guard.  Though he had lead the charge, the warlord still had precious flexibility for the moment, and where he decided to direct his strength might make the difference between a glorious victory or total loss of momentum.

__________

RESULTS AND CASUALTIES

Jotun Clans exchange shots with the enemy and then take the brunt of the melee, unprepared for such aggressive enemy action!
Approximate Casualties
-- Thane Gudrik (General) - 5 Bodyguards, General is LIGHTLY WOUNDED (small malus to personal combat for the rest of the battle)
-- Stae Pjjokhat (Surv-Akur General) - 20 Mounted Bodyguards, unit is HOOKED IN MELEE (cannot disengage without intervention by friendly forces)
-- 400 Giant Shock Infantry, both units WAVERING (will rout by the next modmark unless the course of battle changes dramatically)
-- 150 Giant Halberdiers, unit SHAKEN (if conditions get worse, unit may retreat or rout)

Jotun flanking forces (2 groups of 500 City Roundshiers and 125 Raider Marines) have returned to the vicinity of the battle and are ready to engage but getting tired.

Wasteland Orcs suffer some losses in the skirmish but deliver a powerful charge that threatens to break the enemy main body!
Approximate Casualties:
-- 100 Orc Halberdiers
-- 150 Orc Pike Levy
-- 150 Orc Archer Levy

Yontai Furtaker (General) is free to engage any chosen Jotun unit in the central force.

Yontai spotted the thane among the giants easily. He was taller than most, in finer armor, surrounded by bodyguards, bellowing commands and waving his weapon as he tried to rally his men. "Onward boys! Kill them all!" he waved his ax and spurred his wolf forward as orcs cheered behind him. His elite warriors drove forward against the thane's guards as Yontai's warg tackled one of the giants, sending him sprawling to the ground in a mess of fur and flesh. Yontai jumped off in mid-leap, landing square in front of the thane.

"Time for you to die, giant!" He roared, swinging his blade forward. Behind him his bodyguard engaged the thane's, ready to stop anyone who interfered in the duel. This would be a fight between commanders as long as they had anything to do about it.

Around them the orcs fought in a frenzy. They were eager for the glory of slaying a giant themselves, and for the rewards of battle. Giant scalps, supplies, and quality survaekom weapons. If they won this fight every warrior in the band would have bragging rights for life among the wastelands, and they would proudly display the hands, feet, or scalps of the strange "giant folk."

Summary:
-- Yontai Furtaker engages Thane Gudrik in single combat. His bodyguard attempts to prevent any interference.
-- The Orcs press forward, eager for the glory of victory and slaying giants.