Autumn 990 - The Unification of Mirholme

Gunnar Broadaxe was a true Mirholmen warlord: tall, blonde, with piercing blue eyes. His shoulders, like his axe, were broad. He grinned happily at the thought of the oncoming battle. He could just imagine his wicked uncle Olaf Squinteye in the opposing shieldwall quivering in fear beneath his crowned chicken banner over on the other side of the valley. It was a good day to go to Valhalla. The Autumn had brought early snow, which meant that they would not get too hot while fighting. Good. A man should be comfortable while killing his enemies. A shout went up. The two lines of troops began the advance. Gunnar was outnumbered, but he feared nought. If death came, he would be in Valhalla tupping valkyries and swilling mead before the sun set. If all went well, he would be at home again by nightfall swiving his wife and swilling mead with his hearth companions. Yes, it was a good day.

The two armies face each other across the snowy valley

A roar went up on both sides. The howling of Olaf's death-dealers reached fever pitch. Torfi the hero responded with his own battle cry. Men beat their weapons on their shields to make a fearsome noise. Then the lines clashed. In the first exchange of blows a howl of dismay arose around the standards of the two leaders. Gunnar took a strong dunt to the head and collapsed unconscious beside his standard. Olaf took a blow to the leg that severed it below the knee. The two shieldwalls pulled back, leaving their leaders among the dead. Each had taken horrendous casualties in that first exchange of blows as each warrior sought to prove his worth.

Charge! No, retreat!!

It was too much for Gunnar's men. They had given better than they got but the loss of their beloved leader unmanned them and they routed, all except for Torfi the Hero.

Torfi stands alone

Even the death-dealers were not strong enough to stand against Torfi. He and his boon companions thrust mightily and struck blows that were strong enough to sunder ordinary swords. Their own blades were aged steel, family heirlooms that had survived the test of battle many times. Their edges were sharp and the enemy death-dealers despite their magic from Wodan could not stand against them.

Torfi destroys the death-dealers while the enemy army surrounds him

"It is better to die on the field of battle than to abandon the gracious despoiler of the dragon's hoard to his fate," announced Torfi. The death-dealers were gone, but the enemy shieldwall still advanced towards him, albeit somewhat timorously. Torfi howled at the archers behind him and they ran like geese before a fox.

If in doubt, charge!

With the skirmishers gone, Torfi charged the enemy lines, twelve men against a horde, but that horde was battered and could not stand before him.

"Yeah, that's right. Run, you cowards!"

Only a small group of huskarls remained on the battlefield after Torfi had finished with the rest. They surrendered and Torfi was able to revive Gunnar and take him home. As an afterthought he dragged Olaf with him to die the death of a traitor in a snake pit.

Heroes are tough! This battle had us both laughing as the two generals fell in the very first melee and all of Gunnar's army bar Torfi the Hero routed. Unfortunately for Steve his main troops had taken a heavy beating in that first round of melee so they were effectively useless from then on and he could not muster the numbers needed to take the hero out. He really needed to get at least two units into melee with the hero else he was not going to even wound him. Ah well, at least the good guys won.