[Translation Below]
In this braw wee reficht o ane o the maist weel-kent battles ever feucht on British grund, the muckle host o James the Fowerth o Scotland cam doon tae grips wi a gallant, gin somewhat dour, army o Sassenachs, led by the Earl o Surrey. For the playin o the game we made trial o Lion Rampant, though no quite as the makers intendit, addin a wheen o oor ain notions. This, as it chanced, gae rise tae some richt extraordinary proceedings.
In the first encounter, the puir Scots were fairly haggit an hewn tae pieces in but twa turns, leavin the field strewn wi claymores, corpses an shattered pride. Yet in the second affray, Providence seemit minded tae tak anither course. Turn efter turn, aye an turn efter turn again, the slaughter raged wi nae end in sicht. The Scots flang themsels wi desperate valour at the enemy lines, but the stubborn Sassenachs stood firm as whinstane, refusin tae budge sae much as an ell.
At lang an last, the English commander, heart-sair an near scunnered wi the endless spectacle o useless bluidshed, resolved he could thole nae mair o't. Rather than continue the grim butchery, he drew aff frae the field, yieldin the sodden mosses an clart-ridden bogs o Flodden tae the ragged remnants o the Scottish host.
The few Scots left astir, blackit wi pouther-smoke, reekin wi bog-water, an led by their daft, thrawn, half-mad King, set up sic a cheer as if they had won a victory tae rival Bannockburn itsel. Sae they claimed the field, if no the glory, whilst Fortune, doucely smilin at the joke, seemit tae wink her e'e at the survivors through the haar an carnage.
In this fun refight of one of the most iconic of British battles, the Armies of James IV of Scotland met an English Army, commanded by the Earl of Surrey. We were experimenting with using Lion Rampant, with our own amendments, for this game, although this led to some strange results.
In the first game, the Scots were massacred in a couple of turns. In the second, the slaughter went on turn after turn after turn. The Scots couldn't dislodge the English from their positions, despite many desperate attempts. In the end, the Englaish commander was sufficiently sickend by the never-ending, futile bloodshed that he decided to retire from the field, leaving the sodden bog of Flodden to the decimated Scots. The few remaining Scotsmen, including their deranged King, were surprisingly jubilant at their unexpected 'victory'.
