So i've been playing as Sicily.
The black plague has just subsided and my army sits on the bridge to Venice. One thousand men strong. A general, five units of Italian spear militia, 8 units of pavice crossbow militia, 4 catapults and 2 units of halberd militia are guarding the bridge and the city against any who might dare oppose them. For the past thirty years the Imperial army and two thousand of their rabble block my land trade. The land rabble consists of countless archers. Countless spear militia, a few catapults and ballista's and two very juicy targets. The king of the rabble himself.
Lord Gertrude and his general. A man of little importance who's name escapes me. PAH! It doesn't matter now. He is dead! They are all dead! The rabble have scattered far north into Danish territory.
After thirty years of watching the imperialist pigs get fat while the battle hardened warriors of Sicily continued to equip themselves with better armour and become more experienced with blade, bow and catapult, with funds plummeting, with Sicily getting desperate, the men grew bitter and charged across the bridge onto the hills and engaged twice their number on the plains.
At first the situation seems hopeless, even with only half the opposing army there. The men decide to stay back. Trying to bait the enemy in range of their superior archers and catapults. But the enemy waits. They sit on the other side of the hill waiting for their reinforcements. They get them and still they wait.
At this point their general decides to go for a solitary group of crossbow militia that I have left out in the open away from my troops. He charges by himself, clearly thinking his unit can outmatch the crossbows of my men...
He was wrong.
In an instant three quarters of his men were cut down by withering crossbow fire. He turns tail and runs but that just puts him in range of my catapults which fling eight flaming rocks at him. They all miss him... and sink into his front line. taking out a big chunk of each unit it hits.
Their army surges into action. They move forward into range of my crossbows and my men slaughter the untrained militias as they charge forward. When they get close they realise their mistake as my spear militias thrust cold iron into their chests. The numbers of the enemy seem to be a disadvantage when the enemy's catapults cannot fire at my men safely, but my catapults can fire at the back of their lines and at their catapults with little fear of friendly fire.
It looks like my men would lose, but then a stroke of luck hits as a tonne of flaming rock hits their king off his horse. He is dead. A crumpled heap of what used to be a man. Almost a second later his general gets caught up in a melee with my crossbow militia and gets caught in the back by my halberd men. They unhorse him with no casualty's and go on their merry way. My other group of halberd militias are fighting off three times their number in peasants and spearmen. My men lost half their number but fend them off and reinforce the catapult line.
After seeing their two commanding officers go down, their units are starting to panic. My general gets stuck in, slaughtering any unit that goes near the archers while my catapults destroy theirs. This is the final straw, the enemy breaks.
It starts off in small groups, but the small groups eventually become big groups, the big groups become massive groups until the entire army is running. HUZZAR! My men have done it. Skill, training and equipment have won the day against an enemy who has the advantage of height and numbers.
(This just happened, like, WHOA)