Scouting Ithilen-The Bridge over the Poros

Game the Fifth

The Bridge

The River Poros runs down through South Ithilien from its source in the Ephel Duath, the Mountains of Shadow that ring Mordor, and flows thus eighty leagues or more, across the plains until it joins the mighty Anduin. The Harad road crosses the Poros at the fords that have so often been a point of entry for invading armies. Just to the North of these fords, on a little-known road, stands an old stone bridge. Here the Poros is narrow but deep and fast and cold, invariably fatal to all that fall in. (Map from The One Ring)There is a shrine at the crossing to those who have lost their lives building the bridge so others may cross safely. There is an old ruin there too, its history long lost in the mists of the past. It may have once been a fine house, none living can say. It is to this bridge that Faredor leads his weary men.

 

The Men of Minas Tirith

Faredor has three wounded men to get to safety, if he can get them across the bridge, he may hold off the enemy for long enough to let them get away. On the road he meets Horred, a Warrior of Minas Tirith armed with sword and shield, who has been sent from the White City to seek news.

The Fiefdoms of Gondor

Baragund has dispatched the wounded Eothard to carry word of the enemy in Ithilien. He has been joined by Bladruth a Ranger of Morthond and Dunhold an archer also from the Black Root Vale. He arrives at the bridge shortly after Faredor and his men, the two leaders discuss their defence of the bridge.

“Well met Baragund! Long have the Men of Gondor trusted those of Dol Amroth to look to her borders and come to her aid at need” says Faredor

“Well met indeed Faredor. Or should I say in need for our foe is upon us and he does not want for numbers!” replies Baragund

“It is as you say, my friend, but we have the position and some fine companions. We must trust to Gondorian steel this day; we will make such a fight as those of which the minstrels sing!” states Faredor “Will you take the bridge to hold? It is a noble deed is it not, to defy a river crossing?”

“Why I do believe it is, cousin, I do believe it is” And he breaks into a wide smile that brings a hearty chuckle from all within hearing.

“Go to your positions men, it is a day to draw blood, a day to stand and fight for Gondor!” he roars

“For Gondor!” they roar the reply, holding their swords a loft and the polished blades gleam brightly in the rays of the afternoon sun and they go to their positions, laughing merrily.

 Khabaal’s scouts

Khabaal is feeling confident. His warband has been victorious in two encounters and has been strengthened by the two mounted men Naveed the Variag and Khalid Bey the heavy cavalryman. He has become Master of Battle with increased Fight, while Dhalmud has an extra attack and Jihalakhan has become a Seasoned Archer. 

The Gorgor Hai

The Orcs are not so happy. They are far from home and don’t like the green fields and open plains of this strange land. They don’t like working with these Men and they don’t like all the marching. They want to go home

Khabaal walks over to Skarrik. The Orc leader is with a small group of his gang, they have been muttering and squabbling in their foul Orc tongue.

Orcs and Men talk the Common Tongue when speaking to each other, Skarrik has a coarse guttural accent, Khabaal speaks a strange Archaic version of Westron learnt at his grandsire’s knee.

“Takest thou thine Apes and go ye to the bridge” he orders

Skarrik draws himself up to his full height, his eyes are level with Khabaal’s chest! “We are Gorgor Hai” he growls “From the plains of Gorgoroth in Mordor. We are orcs of the Red Eye! Sauron’s Orcs! We do not take the orders of Men!”

Khabaal appears unaffected. He stares coldly at the Orc leader. “Thou hast a preference for crossing at the ford? Ware thee thy peril! Tis treacherous! As fickle as a Goblins promise!”

“We will take the bridge, just don’t tell me what to do!” snarls Skarrik. He sniffs the air, his face contorts with an expression of disgust

“What scent doth thou detect?” asks Khabaal

“Man flesh!” whispers Skarrik, through a grin of broken, yellow fangs.

 The Bridge crosses the Poros at a place where the river runs narrow, deep and fast. Below the bridge , on the Northern side stand the remains of an old building, some of the debris from its fall into ruin have been washed down stream  to form a ford of sorts, where a man might cross if desperate enough as the water flows faster here and the rocky bed is slippery with weed.

Faredor and his men guard the ford with Deanor of the Ringlo Vale.

Baragund and the Fiefs take up positions in the ruin and on the small ridge above the river to defend the bridge.

The Good guys are outnumbered 18 v 11, they have the advantage of a good defensive position and three re-rolls, but its going to be a tough fight.   

 

The Evil side do not work together well. The men distrust the Orcs and the Orcs hate the men. The two forces cannot support each other in combat. By mutual dissent they form two separate forces. The Empire warband heads for the ford.       

                                

The Orcs fan out and approach the bridge through the wood.

 

The entry on to the board is staggered for both groups. A dice is rolled for each figure entering the board, on 1,2 or 3, they do not come on this turn and must try again next turn. 

5 from each gang enter on the first turn. Skarrik is not one of them.

 

The skulking Orcs creep through the wood towards the bridge, ducking and diving as arrows fly towards them. Suddenly, Burutz throws up his arms and falls to the ground, a green feathered arrow sticking from his chest. The hulking sergeant will play no further part in this skirmish.

 

 The arrow was fired by Dunhold, he and Bladruth  keep up a constant fire from their vantage point above the bridge

 

The last of the Evil Companions enter the board, Skarrik is the last on.

 

The wood is full of skulking, sneaking Orcs

Khabaal and his warband take up positions in cover near to the ford, ready for the inevitable assault.

Jihalakhan provides covering fire from his vantage point behind the trunk of a mighty fallen tree on a small hillock overlooking the ford.

Grabnob and Draggob are in charge range of the bridge when Grabnob cries out in pain and slumps to the ground! 

Another result for Dunhold! Cry Ho! for the Vale of Morthond and its Archers!

Its not all going well for the Good Guys though. Meruvin of Morthond takes an arrow in the arm from Jihalakhan and takes no more part in the battle.

Khalid Bey leads the charge over the ford. The young noble is too proud to let any go before him.

The river runs fast at the ford and the rocks under foot are slippery with weed.

All who cross must roll a die, 1-3 and they lose their footing and are swept 1 d6” downstream

 Skarrik leads Draggob and Ackergob in a charge across the bridge…

…. with the other Orcs scurrying up to support.

Meanwhile at the ford the Empire warband are streaming across, soon the men of Gondor are hard set and fighting for their lives

Khalid Bey takes down Deanor, the valiant Ringlo Vale warrior is wounded

Khabaal wounds Harred

And Naveed wounds Mablud, the Gondorian lieutenant being knocked cold by a blow to the head. 

And no one, not one, fails the “slipping in the cold wet stream of doom“ test

 On the bridge the rush of Orcs is met with cold steel and an iron resolve. Baragund chops down Skarrik

Baragund fells Gitzy and Melathor lays out Draggob. The pile of bodies is growing but the Orcs keep coming on

At the ford, things are truly desperate, with most of their comrades taken out of the action, Mared and Faredor fight grimly on.

Mared wins a duel against the odds but Khabaal fells him the next turn

Faredor loses his fight, but remains uninjured, thanks to his thick armour

 

At the bridge the Orcs win a fight, but are unable to inflict any wounds. They push the men back but this just makes room for Garulf to get involved.

The two horsemen gallop to the bridge to help the failing assault there.

Faredor wins another duel, gasping and panting as he pushes the enemy away. He’s too tired now for cheering and saves his breath for the next fight.

Which is not long coming. Bruised and battered, outnumbered four to one, he is bourne to the ground by the rush of bodies.

Khabaal claims the kill

Dunhold leaps down from the rocks and with Baragund charges the mounted Southrons. They win the duel pushing the swarthy foe back but not causing any wounds.

Bladruth charges into the melee at the bridge, and Melathor injures Skarbut

Sensing victory,the other Empire troops head towards the bridge.

Bladruth and Garulf take down Snark and Kracy, the Orcs are beyond breakpoint and, next turn, Ackergob runs away, the only survivor of the Gorgor Hai

Having defeated the Orcs, the Men form a defensive line across the road. Khabaal’s men move up through the ruins.

The two horsemen, have learned a lesson at the hands of these Men and waiting, just out of infantry charge range, they open fire with their bows.

Preparing for a last stand, the brave men of the fiefs of Gondor

The horsemen and the javelin men all fire on the Noble Men who realise that they will get picked off where they are and so head back to the bridge for the protection of its walls.

Defiant until the end, the Men prepare another Last Stand position.

 

“For Gondor” they cry in voices hoarse from the fray

This last battle goes on for several turns. The Evil side win most of the duels but are unable to injure the Men.

Then Boko takes out Bladruth with a javelin.

Khalid Bey injures Garulf, the man of Lossarnoch, beaten to the ground by a flurry of sword blows from the mounted Haradrim

Naveed wounds Dunhold who succumbs to the poisoned blade.

Xephon coming in low with his spear, with a vicious upwards twist wounds Melathor and it is all over.

Evil triumphs again.

It was a hard-fought battle and not without cost. Of the warriors of Minas Tirith, both Faredor and Mablud sustained serious leg wounds, they are not going anywhere in a hurry. Of those warriors from the Fiefs of Gondor, Baragund received a serious arm wound to go with his existing Old Battle Wound and Melathor has been Lost in Battle, this means that a “rescue scenario” has to be played next to free him. The Orcs have suffered the most. Burutz has an Old Battle Wound, Snark has been lost in Battle, and Gitzy and Skarbut are both dead. Only the Empire warband has got through unscathed.

I had planned to go from this battle directly to a Grand Affair with maybe 800-1000 points for each side and for the Battle Companies to complete a mission within the battle, however, Melathor being Lost in Battle has made me reconsider. I had an idea for the Orcs to quietly slip away at the end of this scrap, with two dead and one missing they look like a spent force and they are not really necessary for the “big scrap”. Their absence would allow me to use another warband from the Empire which is what this campaign is all about. However, pitching the Empire Battle Company against the other two in a rescue attempt will not produce a balanced scenario so the Orcs will stay for one more game.

The Empire warband has been reinforced by Akhim Dhan, one of the famous Mumakrim, “Those that are touched by the Gods” known for their agility and courage, the warriors that crew the howdahs of the mighty Mumakil. The Orcs, who have not had the luck, have no reinforcements, they certainly know how to roll “ones”. Faredor can’t believe his luck when Rogart, a bowman of the city, and Ilynmar, a knight of Minas Tirith, turn up to bolster his weary band.

As an exhausted Baragund is dressing his arm wound as best he can with some cloth torn from his surcoat. His company have taken a beating, his friend Melathor is nowhere to be seen, presumed taken by the enemy, he hears a cheery call. “Hey, hey there!”  

Looking up, he sees one of the tall men-at-arms of Dol Amroth, immaculate in his bright armour and untarnished silks, striding towards him. “Hello, well met! Its Baragund of the House of Baragil isn’t it? My name sir, is Berethor, son of Barathor of the house of Styles and I am sent from Imrahil to aid you as I may and to bring tidings. The Fiefs are in arms sir! They are marching to war!”

All weariness leaves Baragund and leaping to his feet he raises his sword to the heavens “Well met indeed sir, well met indeed. For Gondor!” he cries