We have met the enemy, and he is dust.
The battle was a great victory. We attacked at dawn from the east, it being a clear day we had the sun in the enemy's eyes. There was a strong northerly wind, so I placed the Lost Legion archers (Firestarter) on my right flank. I gave the left flank to the mighty Fenris Expeditionary Force (Supsta), while I put the KUTT contingent (Desire) in the van.
The 13 knights (Dirk, Stormrider and yours truly) held the centre, while I put the peasants of Fisdnar (Frank the Tank) as the rear guard.
With our lines laid out, we advanced. The enemy was firmly entrenched (Jony the butcher of Grey), but by a series of brilliant manoevres (charging head on) we broke through their lines, destroying their formations (which would be best be described as the 'dot formation').
The KUTT contingent did very well, inflicting somewhere between 95%-105% of the enemy casualties, with Desire being mentioned in the dispatches four times.
We suffered only one casualty, who's name will not be mentioned because of the absolute shame he is feeling as he writes this. Convinced the enemy was completely routed, he was focused on the flags and that pile of logs which he, noob that he is, mistakenly thought had strategic value. An enemy division, once again in the dot formation, spawned behind him and struck down this hapless yet extremely handsome warrior.
After which the battle ended. There was great celebration, though there was some difficulty in stopping Firestarter from torching all the buildings. He couldn't seem to understand the troops needed the hovels to be billeted in, but we finally filled him so full of that gawdawful New Shulus mead that he passed out. Frank the Tank kept an eye on him, but could not resist drawing all over his face and shaving off his eyebrows. As he used a cracked Falchion to do so, and was quite drunk himself, the results were... horrifying.
