Dark Ages at Kegworth 2026
Thematic Byzantine vs Alan
Game 1 Thematic Byzantine vs Khazar
Game 2 Thematic Byzantine vs Khmer
Game 3 Thematic Byzantine vs Alan
Game three saw the disturbingly succesful, supposedly "scratch" Thematics sitting fairly near the top of the table and being drawn against Nik Sharp's unespected Alan army.
Yes, this seemingly vanilla and cool-toys-exempt mounted force with little to recommend it had been chosen by one player ar the event, and this the Byzantines were pitched into battle against the Sarmatian Steppe's firecest warriors
Alan Carr, Alan Shearer and Alan Turing, all seen here near Kegworth whilst dressed as Alans
The Alans span a huge time period, but have very few variations so I was pretty sure that I would be facing a "best in book" total of 8 Elite cavalry armed with either bows, or appearing as impetuous lancers. Depending on which it was, this coudl mean a closed down terrain setup, or an open one - but either way this would be a clash of two horse-based armies equally happy to go toe to toe or to scoot and scoot.
The Alans at the end of the 9th century were still seen as a steppe Iranian-speaking people living between the northern Caucasus, the Don and the Volga. Their military system still centred on fast-moving cavalry forces, with elite armoured lancers supported by large numbers of lighter horsemen skilled in skirmishing. Although no longer a major imperial power, they played an important regional role, often acting as allies or auxiliaries to neighbouring states such as the Khazars or Byzantines.
The army was made up of the following core segments
Alan tactics continued the Sarmatian tradition: rapid manoeuvre, feigned retreats, and decisive cavalry charges. Their heavy cavalry could deliver powerful frontal attacks, while their lighter horsemen screened, harassed, and scouted. They were valued as mercenaries by larger powers, and Alan contingents appear in Byzantine and Khazar service throughout this era.
In the 9th century their main geopolitical pressures came from the Khazar Khaganate to the north and east, with whom they alternated between alliance and subordination. To the south they interacted with Armenia and the Caucasian principalities, and to the west they faced occasional conflict with steppe raiders. Key campaigns of the era include their involvement in Khazar-led operations and defensive warfare against other nomadic groups, continuing the long pattern of Alan participation in regional conflicts as mobile cavalry specialists.
The lists for the Thematic Byzantine and Alan from this game, as well as all the other lists from the games at Kegworth can be seen here in the L'Art de la Guerre Wiki.
Having won the initiative, and conscious that my 4 Skoutatoi and 3 bowmen might need something to anchor themselves against, I elected to attack in Plains rather than the Alans other option of Steppes.
Somewhat strangely for a steppe army, the Alans chose to fight by the coast — perhaps the Black Sea — where the waves whispered ancient songs of conquest.
They narrowed the field further with a cunningly placed hill, its slopes bristling with disciplined vegetation like spears awaiting the charge.
The stage was set for a contest of raw courage rather than subtlety, a clash where both sides would thunder forward and meet head‑on between the sea and the earth.
The Byzantines, ever methodical, debated whether their lumbering Skoutatoi should even be dragged into this maelstrom.
In the end, some trudged down to the water’s edge, shields glinting in the salt air, while others were stationed before the hill to block any Alan swordsmen who might attempt a daring climb.
The air was thick with anticipation — the scent of sweat, steel, and sea spray mingling as the armies aligned.
Then, with a cry that echoed across the surf, Byzantine archers loosed their first volley.
Arrows hissed like serpents toward the Alan light horse, who danced and wheeled beneath the storm.
The Byzantines had used this tactic to deadly effect against the Khazars before; surely it would work again?
Yet the Alans, proud and unyielding, merely laughed and spurred their mounts onward, their banners snapping in the wind.
In the middle Warfare as Barker Intended was soon to break out as the two lines of well-clad horsemen exchanged pleasantries and prepared for brutal combat.
The Alans, with their big block of noble cavalrymen in the centre, would surely be the first to blink - after which the Byzantines could choose to evade, stand firm or countercharged (it’s hard to say in an IGOUGO system where an assumption of countercharging when necessary is baked into the factors).
The Thematic System Will be So Good For You
The Alans did indeed blink first, a plan fully endorsed by the Byzantines who had managed to cook up a long line of combats in which they held narrow advantages at both ends of the line of engagement.
The Alan nobles however shrugged off this disadvantage as they struck like lightning, their lances piercing through the Byzantine and Georgian ranks with terrifying precision. .
The Alan nobles lances pierced through the Byzantine and Georgian ranks with terrifying precision.
The important advantages were clearly with the Alan nobles, who comprehensively came out on top in the initial orgy of lance-based violence as four hits landed in quick succession, none returned as the clash became a storm of motion and noise, a symphony of violence where every heartbeat was a drum of war.
This was a devastating opening that sent ripples of despair through the Byzantine line, and frankly was kinda bad, in a “it will be impossible to recover from this without some pretty special dice” kind of way, but at least the narrative arc of the battle was developing in a consistent way which would not disturb readers who might like predictability and early, well signposted plot developments to play out as expected.
Around the hill, Byzantine bowmen turned their attention to Alan swordsmen lurking among the foliage. Arrows thudded into bark and shield alike, but the Alans held firm, their laughter echoing as they deflected the missiles with axe and blade.
The hill became a cauldron of chaos, its slopes alive with the clang of steel arrowheads bouncing off Alan shields, enlivened by the cries of men laughing off the Byzantines tepid long range assaults.
In the centre, the scrimmage in the middle that followed the initial set of charge and counter charge was going much as expected
The Alans had won the first round by such a margin that things now immediately started to head towards ending in a cavalcade of anger and fear for the men from Georgia and Byzantium.
The Alan cavalry broke through like a flood unleashed, Byzantine riders scattered, their formation torn apart by the relentless charge as the Alans swept forward, their victory written in the churned earth and shattered lances behind them.
Soon it was all hands to the pump as the Byzantines sought to do what damage they could to the rampaging Alans, but even so, any strategy that relies on having your centre obliterated at first contact and then using Mediocre Infantry in a slow envelopment that exposes their own flanks to yet more enemy cavalry is perhaps not destined for success.
The Byzantines fought valiantly, but their strategy was doomed almost from the very start.
The Alan nobles burst out in all directions, their horses foaming, their blades red with triumph as Byzantine resistance crumpled faster than a wet paper bag in an Instanbul bazaar on a very humid day indeed.
The Byzantine camp with all its iconic riches surely loomed ahead — The Byzantines could only pray that defeat would come before the shame of looting did.
On the hill an unimportant side show was carrying on, with Byzantine archers shooting blunt arrows uphill to be caught and snapped asunder by laughing Alan axemen
The other Alan pedestrians tried to join in with the success of their mounted nobles by charging downhill into the despondent Skoutatoi, their battle cries mingling with the thunder of hooves from the victorious nobles beyond.
And so, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, the Byzantines collapsed — shattered frontally by the unsubtle, unstoppable Alan charge. With the gleaming domes of the Byzantines mobile Cathedral camp almost in reach of the Alan horsemen, the Byzantine army gave up the ghost and collapsed to defeat, smashed frontally by the unsubtle Alan charge.
The sea breeze carried away the last echoes of battle, leaving only the triumphant silhouettes of Alan horsemen against the dying light, their victory as inevitable as the tide itself - a crushing defeat for Thematic Byzantium
Read on for the post match summaries from the Generals involved, as well as another episode of legendary expert analysis from Hannibal
Post Match Summary from the Thematic Byzantine Commander
The Thematic Byzantine general stood before his weary troops, the sea breeze tugging at his cloak and the scent of defeat heavy in the air. His usual cheerfulness flickered uncertainly, like a candle in a draught, but he forced a smile nonetheless — the kind of smile that had seen him through worse briefings, if not worse battles.
“Well,” he began, clapping his hands together with forced enthusiasm, “that was… educational! The Alans, bless them, decided to charge straight through us. No subtlety, no finesse — just a wall of horse and iron. And we, ever the paragons of discipline, stood there and received it. Perfectly. Textbook stuff. If the textbook was written by the Alans.”
He paced before the battered ranks, gesturing toward the hill where the Alan banners still fluttered. “Now, I know what you’re thinking — perhaps our archers could have done a little more. But really, who could have predicted that arrows would bounce off Alan helmets like pebbles off a monastery wall? Not I! And certainly not the archers, who were far too busy admiring the view to notice their targets laughing at them.”
He sighed, then straightened his shoulders. “Still, we gave them a good show. The sea sparkled, the horses thundered, and for a brief moment, I thought we might actually hold. Then, of course, they smashed through us like a divine revelation. But let’s not dwell on that. Let’s dwell instead on the fact that we looked magnificent while losing.”
A ripple of tired laughter spread through the ranks. The general seized on it eagerly. “And speaking of magnificence — I’ve been thinking. Every great army deserves a theme tune. The Thematic army, after all, is named for it! I’ve written one myself. No one asked me to, but I feel it’s my duty. And yes, I’ll sing it.”
He cleared his throat, raised his arms theatrically, and began to croon in a voice that was far too chipper for the occasion:
If you me want to,
I’ll change the situation,
Right horsemen, right time,
Just the wrong seaside location.
I’ve got a good idea,
Just you keep me near,
I’ll be so good for you Thematic dudes…
He paused, then added another verse, eyes twinkling despite the ruin around him:
I’ll rally the men, though the day is lost,
With banners torn and armour tossed.
I’ll sing our song till the dawn breaks through —
I’ll be so good for you Thematic Dudes.
I’m gonna help ya,
I’ll do anything for you…
I’ll be so good for you.
The soldiers, half‑amused and half‑bewildered, applauded weakly. The general bowed, his grin returning in full force. “See? Even in defeat, we have rhythm. The Alans may have won the battle, but we, my friends, have the tune.”
Hannibal's Post Match Analysis
Hear me, ye Thematic tatterdemalions, ye commanders of the Army of Repeated Errors and Diminished Imagination! I, Hannibal the Nasty—patron saint of tactical derision, scourge of dull‑witted cavalry pushers, and inventor of insults so potent they must be stored in sealed amphorae—do now address thy latest calamity: the defeat at the hands of the Alans. By Baal’s blistered elbow, never has an army squandered its advantages with such majestic incompetence.
First, thy shooting. Or rather, thy heroic refusal to do any. The Thematic cavalry can shoot—this is one of the few things they do better than the lance‑waving Alans. And yet thou didst ignore it entirely. O thou bolt‑forgetting buffoon, thou quiver‑shunning quail‑skull! Thou hadst bows, javelins, and skirmishing skill, and thou didst say, “Nay, let us instead charge straight into the enemy’s best troops.” This is not strategy; this is the tactical equivalent of dropping one’s trousers in front of the enemy and hoping they faint.
Then, thy immediate commitment to a dice‑fest. O thou cube‑fondling clodhopper, thou luck‑addled lout! Thou hadst better command and control, more options, more tools, more cunning possibilities than the Alans could dream of. And yet thou didst choose the plan of the unimaginative: “Let us roll dice and hope.” Truly, thou art a general of the School of Staggering Stupidity, where the motto is, “Why think when you can gamble?”
And what of thy decision to take on a line of Elite Alan cavalry with a mix of Elite and Average? O thou half‑baked horse‑herder, thou muddle‑minded mule‑fondler! The odds were against thee from the start. The Alans brought a wall of elite horsemen; thou brought a patchwork quilt of mediocrity. This is not bravery; this is mathematical self‑harm.
But wait—thou didst compound thy folly! For thou hadst almost no reserves. None to plug gaps, none to exploit success, none to rescue disaster. O thou reserve‑less rascal, thou depth‑dodging dunderhead! When one begins with a bad plan, one should at least have something in the back line to fix it. But thou, O Strategos of the Empty Rear, didst march forward with everything at once, leaving nothing behind but regret.
And what of deployment? The Alans were clearly going to anchor themselves by the water. Anyone with a functioning brain stem could see it. Yet thou didst not wrongfoot them. Thou didst not push past the hill on the other flank. Thou didst not refuse the waterside. O thou flank‑forgetting flapdragon, thou hill‑ignoring hobbledehoy! Hadst thou but marched wide, the Impetuous Alan cavalry would have been dragged into awkward angles, bad charges, and endless frustration. Instead, thou gavest them exactly what they wanted: a straight line, a flat field, and a Byzantine general with the imagination of a damp cabbage.
Thus I, Hannibal the Nasty, conclude with this prophecy: later tonight, at the team Indian meal, thou shalt undoubtedly spill curry down thy front. For a man who cannot deploy a cavalry army with imagination cannot be trusted with a tikka masala. And furthermore, thy lack of flair, cunning, and tactical artistry is precisely why thou must never—NEVER—be allowed to write the Theme Tune, nor sing the Theme Tune, for the Byzantine army. Thy voice would be as flat as thy deployments, and thy lyrics as uninspired as thy plans.
May the gods grant thee a spark of imagination, lest future battles resemble this one: a glorious opportunity wasted by a Strategos whose mind is as empty as his reserve line.
I only ended up playing 3 games at this event, as we had a dropout overnight and as the organiser I opted to take the 2 byes on the second day, so actually, that's the end - so why not go back to the Match Reports Index and read some more reports?
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Game 1 Thematic Byzantine vs Khazar
