"To Britain's Shores" - Chapter 17 - Spring

At last. A morning where it isn't just miserably wet and grey. I was starting to hate these British winters.

This past one, particularly. Strange, as old Theobald used to say about Leofric the Drunkard, how you don't miss something till it's not there any more. No Ecgwine, blue eyes aflame, brashly questioning the Young Wolf's decisions. No Lavinia, with her head of raven-dark hair leaning next to his unruly straw-pale mop, slim hand on his arm and the quiet word that tempers his rashness. Truth, we'd seen less of that this last year, as he'd started to learn wisdom from all of us, and she'd thus had to do it more infrequently.

But Ecgwine's dead, a British spear in his side, and she... who knows? Left in the night on Aelfric's second-best horse. The Cyning's Hall in Caer Lind Colon - Odin's blood, that's still a barbarous mouthful of a name - seems that bit darker without them both, and we...

We have become grim.

Resolute.

Cold.

Iron.

The ring of metal on metal has been the music of the Hall most days, with none questioning our Cyning's resolve to make us harder, better. Which is why I'm here in one of the Hall's outbuildings, sorting through a batch of new-made spear points. That and it gives me something to do.

We're missing Beornwulf too this winter, sent on a thankless task to bear news of his son's passing to Ecgfrith across the great sea - Ecgfrith the Cyning, Aelfric's father's brother, who charged us - me and Aelfric especially - to take care of his son and make him a man. "You can't argue we managed one of those...."

"Mmm?" Aelfric, damn him, still has a habit of sneaking up on me.

"I... uh. Just musing aloud." He eyes me for a moment, with that maddeningly prompting look of his. I sigh. "Ecgwine." Again the regard. "Your uncle. 'Keep him safe. Make him a man.'"

Aelfric nods, "We tried." A pause, then, ruefully. "And we were..."

"Ho there!!!!!" It's a yell from the gate, young Hedric. "Someone's coming up the round. A band of men..."

The Young Wolf treats me to a sudden grin. "I'll bet you it's Beornwulf."

I grin back. "Not taking that bet. I'll catch you up when I've tidied this lot away."

---

I head for the gate, slipping through between a couple of the buildings to join the throng: there's much backslapping of Beornwulf, and the group of warriors he's brought across the sea with him. Hel's teeth, he's even managed to persuade the tall, rangy Deorwine, one of Ecgfrith's Gedriht that I actually don't have any grievance with, to join him. He's a skilled horseman, and a fine warrior, quiet yet intelligent: never a score of words when two will do. I'm just about to clasp him by the hand when a slap on my back nearly knocks the breath out of me.

"Not dead yet, then, Godric?"

I really should have spotted that distinctive hair amid the small crowd, but she isn't tall, certainly not among men. The voice, though, is unmistakably hers, a low alto rasp. I allow myself a second or two, as Deorwine gives me a knowing wink, lips quirking in an amused grin, before I turn. "Gytha."

There might be even more grey in her locks, but other than that she hasn't changed in the time since we left. Hair the colour of iron down to her shoulders; the same well-worn mail; axe and sword at her belt; the white line of a scar the length of her cheek from a blade; eyes the grey of a winter sky.

A smile, rendered slightly crooked by that scar, quirks her lips. "Miss me?"

She always did start with the difficult questions.

---

Now if I could actually find the box that has Bad Squiddo's shieldmaiden warriors blister in it (which I'd link to, but I can't find it on Annie's site either!), I'd have Gytha painted up by now. Unfortunately, I suspect it's somewhere in the stuff we cleared out of the workshop so the builders could do their stuff, which means I have almost no space to move stuff into to search for it. That and it's cold out.

A date for your diary...

For those who enjoyed our previous WAB tournaments, Bretwalda and Carve Out A Kingdom, the club have a provisional date for this year's. Theme as yet undecided, but the date will be Sunday November 23rd, 2014.

We're subject to confirmation with our venue, but you may want to pop this date in your diary.

Also watch this space, as we've also got designs on Dreadball and Bolt Action tournaments.

Battle Report - 6 Feb 2013 - Principles of War

We had our first battle in Gav's second computer-moderated Penninsular War campaign this week. An entire French Corps under Maréchal Victor ran into a rather disorganised but larger force under Wellington just outside Palencia.

Battle lines drawn up, the French along the ridge line.

Unfortunately (or not, depending on how you look at it) the bunch of players for this one are dotted round the world (quite literally: one's in Australia and more than one in the US), so after a bit of negotiation it eventually fell to me and Gavin (it would have been Richard as well, but he had to cancel.)

We used Gavin's 6mm forces, and the Principles of War ruleset, which I've played a couple of times before, but am rather rusty with, so I was profoundly grateful that as rulesets go, they're pretty good at encouraging you to play period tactics.

Deploying short of the village pays off, as the British
advance gets rather logjammed round it.

As the British were (eventually) going to outnumber the French, I adopted a defensive position along a ridge line and the front edge of a relatively open forest. Basically I had one brigade in reserve from each division, plus a full division in reserve. There was a small village just in front of that line, but after a little consideration I left it as an obstacle for the British, rather than bend my line.

The British turned up somewhat piecemeal, rather hampered by a) Gavin's awful dice rolling for command points for the commanders that mattered and b) Wellington having to command a massive group of several otherwise leaderless stragglers, which meant he was never going to have enough command points.

Villatte's Division engages the British.

My deployment seemed to work quite well: on the right, the British got rather snarled up round the village, taking odd retreat results from speculative artillery fire, and generally being short on command points.

On the left, I advanced some of Victor's cavalry to force the British division (with no cavalry to support it) into square, and had Victor change that flank's orders to engage, in the hope I could shift them before the considerable column of reinforcements (nearly two divisions worth) arrived. It nearly worked. Had my dice rolls not decided to desert me at the crucial moment, I'd have driven off at least one if not two brigades.

The British make a renewed attempt to force an attack
through the village onto Ruffin and Lapisse's Divisions.

On the right, a couple of British units got within canister range, and veered off pretty sharply, which did nothing at all to help the snarl up in the village.

In the centre, Crawfurd and the Light Division (or at least, elements thereof) were doing better than the rest (helped by Crawfurd not having much to command). However, they did get on the receiving end of several turns of artillery fire from Victor's horse and foot artillery, and were starting to look pretty shaky, not helped by Crawfurd himself getting hit.

The British, having fallen back from the French
counterattack. Crawfurd's brigade is on the extreme right.

By now I'd lost a couple of units on both flanks, and was quietly very glad I'd kept brigades in reserve to plug holes. Villatte on the left had managed to force the British back, but not as successfully as I'd like, despite Beaumont's Hussar's charging in on a British regiment.

And there, or thereabouts, is where we left it, with about a turn and a half to go before nightfall (it was gone 11:15pm). As the remaining turns don't need much strategic input from me, Gavin will run them over the weekend. It's still a bit touch and go, IMO, although I get the impression a fair few of the British units are low on morale. The main worry is Spencer's entire division of infantry heading for the French centre, but I think nightfall may beat them.


The one problem I have with Principles of War, once I've got used to the odd turn sequence (effectively Morale, Firing, Melée, Move), is that I find the morale roll (d20 vs unit strength + mods) slightly more prone to extreme results than I'd like. I wonder if 3d6 would be a better roll? Maybe that's one for the Probability For Wargamers series? :D

"Vive L'Empereur" take 2

I'm chuffed to note that Gavin is running another of his computer-moderated Penninsular campaigns starting this week. I'm... once again... running some of the French, though with a good few more players from round the wargaming world this time, I only get to run one (large) Corps, not two, and hopefully I'm not the CinC!

As before, since the computer-moderated aspect imposes a certain measure of secrecy, I'll be blogging in a somewhat delayed fashion.

Battle Report - 03 Dec 2012 - Warhammer ECW Campaign

Gary (left) and Dewi ponder the
problem.

So, having reached the end of our campaigning, Carl decided we'd cap off the club ECW campaign with a battle. Conveniently, it was late June of 1643, and our campaign area was the general vicinity of Oxford, so... we had a go at Cropredy. To be specifically accurate, we had another go at Cropredy, since long-term readers of this blog may remember that Carl and I had a go at the battle last year.

Forces were, as for our last couple of large battles, provided by Gary (barring a few cavalry by me). What's really scary is that Gary is now retired (early - the youthful good looks are NOT due to a picture in his attic), and happily painting away... and that this insane volume of Warlord plastics was painted in his spare time in less than a year... before he retired.

Royalist gallopers charge the bridge.

Carl and I (lacking Andy, who was indisposed) took the Royalist rearguard and rear of the main force, and Dewi, Grahame and Gary took the forces of Parliament. It.. actually went pretty much as per history. My cavalry charged Waller's approaching Roundheads coming over Cropredy Bridge, and proceeded to demonstrate just how good decent Royalist gallopers are, smashing through several units one after another and causing a real logjam at the bridge.

A convoy of Royalist foot head for
Hays Bridge.

That was pretty much what decided it - while the forces of Parliament were recovering from that, the rest of the Royalist rearguard managed to get most of the way to Hays Bridge, and we called it by about 4pm campaign time.

And that's that for the ECW campaign. Grahame and the Roundheads (sounds like a great name for a band) won the campaign proper, having by the end of June more cash and forces and territory than we did. A great time was had by all - thanks to everyone who took part, but especially Carl for organising the whole thing. We'll do it again in 2014!

"To Britain's Shores": Chapter 3 - Hostage

Wulfhere's halls are a distinctly cheerier place tonight. Apart, that is, from our... for want of a better word, let's call him our guest. The sullen British noble is sat on the floor ignoring most of the jeers and the jibes thrown his way, but he's well aware that I, if no-one else, am keeping a close eye on him.

---

We were a few hundred paces from one of the watchtowers on the borders of the British lands, when Sithric, one of the young lads who'd wheedled his way along with us, came running back through a copse of trees, breathless. "There's a British lord and his band heading for the tower over that away..."

"Keep your voice down," hissed Aelfric. A horn blast from the watch tower suggested he was too late for that advice, but it didn't appear to faze him. "Leofric, Ecgwine - take your warbands and the boys and keep the tower busy. Godric, come with me and the hearthguard." Blue eyes glittered dangerously. "We're going to catch ourselves a noble."

Evidently the Young Wolf's words after last time's fiasco hit home. We faced off a bunch of the British levy who tried to head us off, led by their little man, and they clearly didn't fancy it. Just about that time, the band of warriors Sithric had spotted appeared past a small clump of trees... as if we needed an invitation. We knew we had them when their half-hearted charge petered out a few paces short...

---

"What are...*hic* we gonna do with him?" It's Leofric, who seems to have come out of the battle unwounded - his warband laid into their Tribune and chased him off, before having a run in with the little man.

"Kill him!" comes the suggestion from several folks. I'm watching the noble for a reaction, and to his credit, he doesn't so much as flinch.

Aelfric looks round, gauging the temper of his men. Lavinia's sat by Ecgwine again, murmurs something to him, which earns her an assessing look from the princeling and a nod, and he raises his voice. "Ransom him."

I don't think Aelfric saw that coming. Leastways, I know him well enough to catch the faint arch of his brows in surprise at the young man. "Ecgwine?" he prompts.

"Ransom him." Give the lad his due, once an idea's planted in his head, he can figure out the whys and wherefores. "Killing him would dishonour us, anger them, and put our lives at risk if they were to ever capture one of us." He actually grins. "And besides, we could use the money."

Wulfhere, our host, has been listening, propped against a roof-post; rumbles, "Aye, y'could that, 'specially the amount Leofric's been drinking that needs paid for." The latter makes a rude noise, to general amusement.

Aelfric nods, once, turns to the Briton. "On your feet, you. What's your name, and your Lord's?"

He's well aware I'm watching him, is the Briton, and gets to his feet just slow enough to suggest he's doing it because he wants to. "I am Geraint. My Lord's name is no business of yours, Saex."

A soft snort. "I would do your Lord the courtesy of addressing him by name when I barter for you, Geraint." Aelfric gives him an assessing look. "I am Aelfric, son of Aelfgar, and these are my warriors."

He stiffens, does the Briton. "Our Lord is the Tribune Andrusius." Grey eyes study Aelfric. "We have many men in Caer Lind Colun - you will not prevail, Saex, and I am not a thing to be bartered."

That earns him jeers, and a few suggestions about the bravery of some of those men, before Aelfric cuts them short with a single hand gesture. I can see that, for all his sullenness, Geraint is impressed at his command of what I'm sure the Briton thinks of as an unruly mob. "We will see, will we not." He glances across at me, nods, then turns back, "Ecgwine? Come speak with me a moment."

---

And so it is that a while later, Aelfric, me, Geraint and a group of our hearthguard are back at that watchtower. Whoever's in charge up there... from this distance it looks like the little man... is smart enough to stop one of their lads from feathering one of ours with an arrow. "What do you want, Saex?"

This is my job, and I step forward, and raise my voice. "I am Godric, champion of Aelfric son of Aelfgar. He wishes to speak with the Tribune Andrusius." The Latin name sits strangely on my tongue. "Who are you, stranger?"

"I am Decurio Maximus Minimus. Why should he negotiate with you barbarians?"

One of the Gedriht obligingly pushes Geraint forward, and I raise my voice again. "Aelfric has something he may want back."

Review - IABSM supplement "Blenneville or Bust"

Ever wanted a nice company-level WW2 campaign with a decent level of context and story behind the games, without massive amounts of bookkeeping but with replay value?

Boy, are you in luck. :D

"Blenneville or Bust" is a new campaign supplement for I Ain't Been Shot Mum 3 by Robert Avery, and it rocks. I've had it for a couple of days now, but I figured I'd hold off on a review till I'd read it more thoroughly.

So, what do you get for your £9.50?

300 (no, that's not a typo) pages of campaign info, as a downloadable PDF. There's an intro to the campaign, which is set in a fictitious chunk of Normandy not long after D-Day, a raft of 6'x4' wargames table maps corresponding to key locations of strategic interest, a decision tree, and thirty one scenarios using the various maps in various directions with various forces.

The whole think is a linked narrative campaign with a slight nod to a Choose Your Path To Adventure book (sorry, Robert, just teasing!). Basically, you fight scenario 1, and depending on who wins, you go to 2a or 2b, and so on. There's a bunch of forces in the area with complete orbats, with some only-slightly-annoyingly-named Big Men (the Lardies' penchant for 'funny' or 'themed' sets of names is my one real peeve with many of their publications), and even a table that you can use to figure out a shopping list at your choice of wargaming emporium. They're well-designed scenarios, with clear objectives that (obviously) tie in to the campaign, and each comes with about 8 or 9 pages of briefing, split between one for the Allies, one for the Germans and one for the umpire, ready to print out.

Yep - you're gonna need an umpire (although you could maybe squeeze by without). Personally? I don't consider this a downside - I've been umpiring IABSM at the club for a couple of games now, and I actually enjoy it almost as much as playing.

Gripes? Apart from the slightly naff names, the maps leave a little to be desired graphically, in my opinion. But you don't, in general, buy Lardies' stuff for supremely glossy GW/Battlefront presentation values, and the maps are more than amply clear enough to lay the battlefield out on a table (though I am wondering how many feet of bocage in 15mm I'm going to need!).

These are, though, minor gripes, and don't detract from the meat of it, which is that it's a superbly put-together resource. There would be nothing to stop you using it with a fairly wide range of other company-level rulesets - not for me, but whatever floats your boat. :D The fact that it's a PDF is actually an advantage - as I said before, you can print off specific pages of briefing for each side (as well as maps) as and when you need them.

I for one aim to see if I can run through it for some of the IABSM players at the club in 2013, so watch this space for write-ups! Unreservedly recommended.

"To Britain's Shores": Chapter 2 - "The Church"

I don't think I've ever seen Aelfric this angry before.

He came back from across the river with news of a village with a church to the Britons' Christ-god, ripe for the taking, and a new wolf-skin cloak. Some of Wulfhere's men who went with him have started calling him the Young Wolf, and, truth to tell, it fits.

We came on the village just as a bunch of the Britons - I swear, the same ones we fought before: I'd recognise that short warrior of theirs in the red cloak anywhere - were moving to head us off from the west. Aelfric, me and his dozen Gedriht, the hearthguard who are his sworn bodyguard, moved to head them off, backed up by Ecgwine, Theobald and his band, while Leofric took another dozen warriors and headed for the church.

"We should have taken them." Aelfric has waited till everyone's wounds are cleaned up and bound, Lavinia and a couple of the Saxon women working their way among the tattered survivors of our band. She moves to sit by Ecgwine now she's done, rests dark hair on his shoulder. If she's upset at the desecration of her god's church by Leofric, she's smart enough to keep it to herself. Bright girl. 

His voice is deathly quiet."We should have taken them," he repeats, ice-blue eyes sweeping along the men facing him. There's a chorus of sullen assent, none of them really wanting to meet his gaze. They messed up. We messed up. I count myself as one of them, Thane's champion or not, and I'm very glad Aelfric has me stood by him right now, so I don't have to meet that look. "All you had to do... All you had to do was stand firm for long enough for Leofric to do his job. Are you not my hearthguard?"  A snort. "Are you not warriors?" Louder. "Or are you women and cowards?" 

The last time anyone used that last word in Wulfhere's hall, it was Ecgwine. Even he winces, this time, and Lavinia murmurs something to him which earns her a sharp shake of the head. Good. He's learning. 

Aelfric stalks the width of the dais. "The Atheling... the princeling..." He means Ecgwine. "...is more warrior than you are." Fair play to the lad - his warriors did stand firm against twice their number, including that Tribune with the very quick blade, for long enough to delay the Britons from getting to Leofric. He bristles a little, does the princeling, at the implied slur, though, but Lavinia stretches up, hair brushing his cheek, and whispers something in his ear that earns her a surprised look, then a nod, and he's paying a lot of attention to Aelfric now. I make a mental note to have a word with the lass sometime.

Leofric gestures with a horn brimming with wine. "But we did... heh... loot the church. Can't... argue w' the plan." 

"Barely, Leofric." The blue-eyed glare won't work on the Drunkard, and Aelfric is smart enough to realise, turns that ice-cold regard back on his Gedriht. "Barely," he repeats. Words cutting like the keen edge of a blade. "You shame me. You dishonour me, and everyone else here." 

I think every man of us would prefer it if he shouted.

"I picked you, every man of you, because you were the best, the bravest. Today you ran from a fight." There's a moment there when I think he's lost them, before he unsheathes the broadsword at his waist, jams it hard, point down, into the dais at his feet, and leans on it, hands on the hilt. Offers them a  chance at redemption. "Next time, there will be no running. Next time..." Those blue eyes scan the warriors before him, assessing, judging. "Next time there will be no cowardice. Next time there will be no dishonour." He straightens, tugging the blade loose, holds it up in an outstretched arm. "There will be a next time, and as Odin is my witness, we will prevail."

"To Britain's Shores" - Interlude (Godric)

Map cropped from Dux Britanniarum rulebook,
© Too Fat Lardies 2012

There are, it has to be said, worse places to hole up and recuperate than Wulfhere the Red's steading here in what the British call Petvaria. It's a chunk of the north shore of the river Humbre, and we're actually living in a place that used to belong to the Romans.

Been a strange couple of months, mind. Aelfric's sent a boat across the river a couple of times, him and some of Wulfhere's riders who know the lands south of the river, just to scout out the lay of the land and see where we can strike next. The Britons have been quiet - I wonder if they're hoping that we're gone for good. 

No such luck.

Me? I've been swapping stories with some of Wulfhere's men, trying to keep Leofric from getting too drunk, and keeping one eye on Ecgwine when Theobald isn't. Not that the lad seems to need it: he's actually, somehow, managed to keep himself out of trouble, and land himself a girl whose father doesn't want to kill him. I guess this is made kind of easier by the fact that she's a Briton, and a serving lass in Wulfhere's halls. If you like 'em dark-haired and dark-eyed, she's a pleasant enough armful, is Lavinia, and Ecgwine does seem genuinely taken by her. She's smart, quick-witted, and not afraid of us, which I guess is a good thing. Not sure what his father would say, but then, I don't see that his father needs to know right now. 

Wulfhere and his men have plenty of tales to tell. They came over the sea to here, maybe twenty years ago, in the pay of the Britons, supposedly defending the shores from... well, the likes of us. And then the Britons decided they were too dangerous to have around, and stopped paying them, and the rest, as they say, was inevitable. Wulfhere had found himself a woman, and the lads were all happy here, so they basically said 'too bad, we're staying', and variously chased off and killed the British men and captured their women and children. If I were Ecgwine, I might be a little careful that Lavinia doesn't try to slip something between my ribs one night. To be fair to the lass, though, she seems almost as taken with him. Even if she is a follower of this strange Christ-god of theirs.

Aelfric should be back shortly from another scouting trip. Leofric's stopped being a miserable drunk and started being a loud and boisterous one again, which means he's pretty much healed. The rest of  the lads are recovered too, and everyone's starting to get a little restless. A few of Wulfhere's men want to come with us this time, so as soon as the Thane's back with a plan, we'll be off. 

I think I might spend the rest of today getting my gear in order.

Battle Report - 10-Sep-2012 - Dux Britanniarum

The first battle of the campaign Andy Hawes and I are fighting, as chronicled on both our blogs.

We rolled the farm raid scenario, with, unlike last time, a fairly reasonable set of terrain. The Saxons got three turns head start, which, with some decent dice rolling on my part, was enough to get them pretty much up to the farm, except for young Ecgwine and his warband, along with the missile troops, who snuck round the far side of one of the woods.

The British diverted one unit of warriors to deal with Ecgwine... I used an Evade card to pull him and his warband back into the wood, and then managed to get the drop on the warriors with good old Leofric and another bunch of Saxon warriors. Score one to the Saxons, as the British lost their amphora and legged it, although leaving Leofric once more wounded. (I'm sure he'd do much better if he spent more time sober!)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Aelfric had moved his heartguard to block the path that the British were taking, causing them to have to take up position forming shieldwall half in and half out of a wood - we ruled they were OK doing this without shock penalty, but obviously couldn't move. As I had a rather nice hand at this point, I charged the British warriors, while holding their comanipulares back with a Goad card, and chased them off.

It was, as they say, all going so well...

Andy's comanipulares somehow managed, in the course of the next couple of turns, to cause BOTH my units of Gedriht to flee one after the other. Meanwhile, the unit of warriors in the building had completely failed to loot anything. At about this point, I decided a tactical withdrawal was in order, which Andy, perhaps prudently, decided not to contest.

Great game, as ever - Andy is still among my favourite opponents, and I continue to find new reasons to love Dux Britanniarum!

"To Britain's Shores": Chapter 1 - Following the Plan

"And I say we could have taken them!" Ecgwine is steering close to the wind here, and he doesn't realise. "They were there for the killing. Me and Leofric had already routed two lots of them!"

Leofric doesn't respond, other than with a weary wave of his good arm, holding the inevitable mead cup. He's got good reason, this time - one of the swines got him deep in the shoulder with a spear point, and he's not the only one of us drinking to dull the pain. We left several proud warriors on the field, and we're here at Wulfhere the Red's steading licking our wounds. Wulfhere is Leofric's cousin, Odin save us, and seems to have almost as prodigious a capacity for mead as our own drunkard.

Aelfric has kept patience with Ecgwine so far - more than I would have. He fixes the brat with those piercing blue eyes of his. "We weren't there to kill the foreigners, remember." He's big on remembering the plan, is Aelfric. One of the reasons we're still alive, and why I follow him, even Leofric does when he's sober enough to think straight, and why Ecgfrith trusts us with his son.

"No. We were there to raid the farm, like you keep saying." The young man tosses his head, sneers a little. "But my men didn't run..." Ecgwine's on his feet, in front of Aelfric and me. The Thegn is still sat, picking at the remains of a fowl. Me, I'm leaning against a roof-post, waiting to see what unfolds.

Aelfric tosses aside the carcass of the bird. He knows some of our Gedriht broke away from the fight... hell, I know, I was caught up with them and so was he. And it rankles, and he certainly doesn't need this little prick reminding him of the fact. I straighten, but Aelfric gives me a brief, almost imperceptible glance and a tiny shake of the head, so I settle back against the post. "No. Your men didn't run. But they didn't find any loot, either."

"You didn't give us a chance, damnit! You pulled us out almost as soon as we'd got into the farmhouse."

"Lucky for the lass that was all the pulling out you had to do," growls Theobald. Theobald's a grizzled veteran of more raids than Leofric, and he's in Ecgwine's warband largely to keep the young idiot out of trouble. Apparently while his band were starting to turn the farmhouse over for gold and treasure, Ecgwine was much more interested in the farmer's daughter.

"So I should have left you to wait for the Britons?" Aelfric's tone has gone quiet, mild. I recognise the danger signs. Ecgwine still doesn't.

"A handful of men and a runt. We'd have taken them. I'm not a coward."

It goes very, very quiet. 

This time, when I push off the post, Aelfric looks away. just sighs. Two paces, my fist makes contact with the brat's jaw, and he's looking up at me from the straw...

"That's right. Get Godric to do your dirty work. My father..." 

Aelfric rises up to his full height and shoulders me aside, as Ecgwine starts to bluster and try to stand, and pushes him back down with a booted foot to the chest. "Your father sent you with me to learn how to be a man." A little extra pressure from Aelfric's boot quells whatever Ecgwine had been about to say. "Godric is my champion. You gave me insult." A pause. "You are still alive because you are your father's son, and because I believe you can be taught." He lifts his foot. "Call me coward again, and that will not save you."

And with that, he turns his back on Ecgwine, and walks away. The lad struggles upright, sees the look on my face and gets the message. He tries to shrug off the heavy, paternal hand Theobald places on his shoulder, but the veteran's having none of it, and escorts him off into the shadows where, I note, the lad is handed a large cup of mead.

Aelfric looks back to me, arches an eyebrow as if to ask, "Did I do the right thing?" I have to remind myself the Thegn is still not that old, for all he has a head wise beyond years atop those broad shoulders. And so I just nod towards where Theobald and Ecgwine are sat. "He'll be fine." 

"Godric? Was I ever that big an idiot?"

I'm not going to answer that anywhere where the rest of the lads can hear, that's for sure.

"To Britain's Shores": Prologue

"At least there's a wind," observes Ecgwine, far too cheerfully.

Sure. That means I can lean over the side and be sick, rather than throw up while rowing. It's a comforting thought, I suppose.

I should introduce myself. I'm Godric, I'm Thegn Aelfric's champion, and I hate sailing. That's Aelfric over there in the prow of our ship, blond hair blowing around in the wind off our stern, looking every inch the hero he's trying to be. He's alright, is Aelfric. Bit serious, but no coward, and a wise head on young shoulders. Ecgwine's his cousin, son of Aelfric's uncle, the Cyning Ecgfrith, and we... lucky lucky us... get to babysit the pretty boy and show him the ropes, while at the same time wrapping him in soft fleeces and making sure he comes to no lasting harm. That and keep him out of the way of at least two Thegns' daughters back home, whose fathers have made it very clear that next time... ah... certain things... happen he goes back to Ecgfrith minus his ... ah... weapon, Cyning's son or not.

"Make sure he comes to no harm," the Cyning says. 

Don't make me laugh. (Apart from anything else, I'll throw up again if I do.)

Last year, we took him on a raid to some Gods-forsaken part of Britain, just to see what their defences are like, and I swear to Odin we nearly lost him. Give the lad his due, he had a bright idea to slip round the back of a wooded slope and come at the Britons from the rear, and covered himself in glory (and blood) catching a fleeing group of the bastards, but their hearthguard turned and went for him. It's only down to me and Aelfric's quick thinking that we aren't busy trying to explain to Ecgfrith why he doesn't have a son any more.

So, anyway. This year, we're doing it properly, a fresh start. "Go," says Ecgfrith, "take some British land, and hold it for the Saxons, for glory, for Odin." We... that's Aelfric, me, Ecgwine, and good old Leofric the Drunkard. That's him in the stern puking his guts up. He claims its the sea: me, I'm not so sure - I saw how much mead and ale he put away before we set sail. There are some days I think it's a miracle he can stand up. On the bright side, his breath should kill a few Britons before we get close, and if the drink hasn't completely fuddled his wits, he has plenty of experience raiding these shores.

It's just starting to get light, and I think I can see a line on the horizon that isn't sea. Odin be praised! Land! 

ECW Campaign Update

For those of you who might have been wondering, no, I haven't forgotten about the club ECW campaign. We've had about five sessions, and (after last night) we've just reached the end of 1643.

The summer campaign season went pretty well - there were a couple of small skirmishes, which largely seemed to result in Andy's Royalist forces covering themselves in glory. In late August, Rupert and Essex happened by, and basically relieved both sides of all their spare cash to fund their armies, which made the next couple of turns interesting, to say the least. Carl (who is GMing the campaign) asked for an accounting of troops to be made to him at the end of August - I provided mine in character (when reading, treat pounds as WECW points :D).

What made winter even more interesting was that for both sides, income from a given garrison dropped by half, and suddenly instead of raking in 500 pounds profit every fortnight, we were making a similar sized loss. Just to add to the fun, the recently-fought (using Pike and Shotte) Battle of Newbury was factored into the campaign, which had very little effect except that the King's forces had captured the Earl of Essex. So Cromwell levied a tithe on the Parliament side's coffers, which, sadly, we (the Royalists) didn't get to see any of.

Graeme and the Parliament forces figured out the best way of dealing with this a couple of turns quicker than we did: in Tinker Fox (plus our local rules), raids only cost if you make the roll to attempt it, so it's worth the risk, as provided your raid makes a profit, not only do you get a small amount of extra funds, you deny your opponent the funds from that area for two turns. That aside, we both currently have the problem of not being able to afford to pay all our troops every turn, so over half our orders are spent making personal visits to garrisons to quell their dissention, having agonised over who doesn't get paid this fortnight.

Hopefully, we'll survive the winter (another six turns!!!) without any garrisons turning mutinous, though not paying the garrison at Stratford over Christmas really wasn't in my plan!

On the good side, most of the Royalist army is now Steady, with a goodly few Veteran.

On the bad side, His Royal Highness Prince Rupert will probably be coming by in March to co-opt half our army for the new campaign season. Joy.

All in all, though? Great fun: even if we have basically spent several Monday nights clustered around a map, and on several of those not moved or laid out a single figure at all! The thing that is interesting on that score is that when we do move to the tabletop, the battle has context in the larger scheme of things, which can even make a two units vs two units scrap surprisingly entertaining.

Battle Report - 26 Aug 2012 - Pike and Shotte

It being a Bank Holiday Sunday, our club had an all-day gaming session. Four of us (your scribe, Carl, Gary and Andy) got together to fight a large ECW battle (a reenactment of the battle of Newbury), arranged by Carl and (barring about two units) using Gary's positively massive collection of 28mm ECW figures.

It was actually my (and Andy's) first game of Pike and Shotte, though we've both played one of more of its relations before. Carl and I took the Royalist forces, tasked with preventing Essex's forces from crossing the river at Newbury (in our right hand corner of the 12'x6' board).

The Royalist forces lined up with 6 battalia - three (a total of ten regiments) of cavalry under Rupert, and three of foot (three or four regiments each) under the King: something of the order of 500 figures, by my reckoning, and a similar size force on Parliament's side.

In short? The Royalist cavalry on the left flank (commanded by me, clearly not on form) were rash and foolish, and paid the price. In the fields in the centre and right it started to look like the Somme, with two long lines of infantry manning the hedges, and blazing away at each other from fairly close range. Eventually, the Royalist horse were driven from the field, and so much like in its real counterpart, Essex would have been able to break through to Newbury and thence to London. (Although, to be fair, we did capture Essex, which might well make the next stage of the campaign a bit more interesting.)

Without further ado... here are some pictures of about 1000 28mm figures to drool over. Huge thanks to Carl and Gary for providing the scenario and figures, and Andy for being, as ever, a fun opponent.

Battle report - 2-Apr-2012

The master campaign map as well as
smaller copies.

A very minimal action report, but the precursor of things to come.

This was the start of the club ECW campaign - effectively starting with 500pts a side using Warhammer ECW and the Perfect Captain's "Tinker Fox" campaign rules. Carl was in charge of the campaign admin, with myself as Royalist CinC (again!) backed by Carl and AndyH (in a change from his usual Dark Ages), and Grahame was CinC of the Parliament forces, along with Dewi and Gary.

Carl's still fine-tuning the rules, particularly the interaction between Tinker Fox and Warhammer ECW, and none of us have played Tinker Fox before, so the first campaign day was largely figuring out how the rules worked.

Fawsley - a location card
from the excellent Tinker
Fox (renamed for our
campaign)

Basically, each senior commander in TF gets a 'letter' per turn, which they can use to instruct troops to do various things: plus the overall CinC gets another which he can use to override one of his subordinates. 'Letters' are things like 'requisition provisions from this unoccupied area', 'garrison this area', etc.

Turn one provided a little more surprising than we actually wanted: I (acting for Andy who was unavailable due to a prior commitment to play SAGA - gee, who knew?!) sent a unit of horse and some commanded shot to garrison the same village Grahame had orders to requisition.

The Battle of Fawsley
begins

Result - a battle! The Battle of Fawsley, in fact - a small skirmish that probably felt like many small ECW battles of the early part of the war, such as Powick Bridge.

Tinker Fox's campaign setup provided the deployment rules - essentially the Royalist troops came in on the north road from Canons Ashby House, and the Roundheads from the direction of Blakesley, and we got to deploy 12" down the road. As the commanded shot I'd sent were Forlorn Hope, they got an extra march move, which I used to spread them out across the road in the path of Grahame's horse.

The two units of horse get stuck in.

(Campaign) history will record, that the Battle of Fawsley was in fact very short and sweet. The Royalist gallopers spread out in line in rear of the shot, and the latter opened fire at close range with a full salvo on the approaching Roundheads. Grahame's cavalry charged, without deploying from two ranks deep, and the shot fled, leaving the gallopers to charge into the Cavaliers. Two rounds of combat went, ultimately, in favour of the Kings' men, and that, pretty much, was that.

Which was about the time we realised that it might be useful to work out how to deal with post-battle bookkeeping of casualties etc!

We did play turn 2 of the campaign, and placed orders for turn 3, and... well, more next month!

Battle report - 20-Feb-2012

Another night at the club - you'd think after the weekend I'd be WABbed out, perhaps, but no.

Monday night was week 1 of our restarted WAB campaign: we have six players, three Roman (Emperor Dan, Gary (governor of Macedon) and me (governor of Britannia)), and three not (Grahame (Picts), Andy B (unsurprisingly, Dacians) and Reuben (Macedonian)). According to the campaign rules (which I will ask Dan if I can link to), the Emperor gets to spent resource points and decide who does what, so...

Peninsular campaign progress

Morning all! Back from an extended weekend of music and mayhem, complete with complementary post-con cold.

For my first post in February, a quick update on the Peninsular campaign I'm involved in... for which, over to Gavin, as he has an overview post of the situation at the end of last week which I am, for obvious reasons, not allowed to read, so you'll have to go give him the page views instead!

From my viewpoint, it's just starting to get interesting: I've chased off a couple of British forces, and taken my initial objectives, but I do seem to be running into a few logistics problems. The system's mostly working great - we've tickled a couple of bugs, but kudos to Gav for what is a great system.

Book review: Don Featherstone, "War Game Campaigns"

I was idly browsing Amazon the other day: I have a wish list that covers most of the classic wargaming books I grew up with (usually from the local library), and every so often I check it to see if there's a copy of any of them anywhere at a price that doesn't make me choke.

This time, I got lucky. An original edition of "War Game Campaigns" for less than a tenner. Now, I know John Curry has a reprint out, but it is a reprint, and given the choice between the feel of a lulu.com reprint and a lovely hardback, I know which I'm going for. Sorry, John! (I also know some of the reprints are available on iBooks for the iPad, but a) this isn't one, and b) while there are some I would buy (and have bought) on iBooks, this one has a special place in my heart!)

It arrived on Friday. Just to even further advance the nostalgia trip, it was an ex-library copy, so not only was it the familiar binding, it even had a library-standard clear plastic film cover over the dust jacket.

I haven't actually held a copy of this book since, roughly, 1980 or so: I can, however, safely say that I must have had our library copy out four or five times during my teenage years, and devoured every page many times. Much like Skirmish Wargaming, I picked it up and flicked through it, and found memories suddenly flooding back: a map here, a chapter title there, a couple of sentences in a battle description, a familiar photo. 

So, nostalgia trip aside, what of it as a book?

Lots of maps, lots of rule snippets and suggestions. The core bits of rules are clearly based on the horse and musket era, although a number of the later chapters cover things outside that period. But, actually, what this book has always been about for me is inspiration. I make no bones about the fact that I'm a historical wargamer, in preference to being just a gamer - for all I play tournament-style WAB encounter battles from time to time, I much more enjoy games where I have context for my on-the-table goals. While Featherstone does devote a bit of time to ladder-type tournaments, the predominant theme of the book is very definitely about ways of giving context and continuity to your battles. Some of the ideas were refreshingly different for their time, for example a Peninsular skirmish campaign that predates Sharpe, and a colonial horse and musket campaign in which each unit represents a company or squadron rather than a battalion. There's also some interesting choices of period, above and beyond the obligatory-for-its-era 18th century horse and musket, that, given the rise of the modern 'mainstream' historical periods, are perhaps even more obscure than they were then. Having said that, there's something about those Warlord and Wargames Factory Zulu Wars figures that's calling to me...

Most of the campaign ideas here aren't as large scale as the word 'campaign' might conjure. They're much more at the Waterloo than Peninsular level, the aim of the off-table actions being to figure out on which particular bit or bits of a moderate-sized area the opposing forces meet, rather than invading whole countries. Much as I like big sweeping campaigns (heck, I'm playing in one!), I can see how these have potential. We're already poaching the 'everyone fields a small force' idea in the club chapters for our club ECW campaign (of which, no doubt, more later). I also note that Big Lee's review of Wargames Illustrated 292 suggests it has a piece on 'one day campaigns', which looks like it might be worth a read as a tie in to some of the things the book covers.

All in all, it's the book I remember. And more, given the much easier availability of figures and rulesets now than back then, especially to a then-impoverished teenager.

---

That wasn't all that I managed to score on Amazon that day - there was something else even more awesome. But I'll save that for another review.

Vive l'Empereur!

Wednesday marked the start of what promises to be an interesting campaign, courtesy of Gavin and a mix of folks I know from the club and folks I've not met before, but are part of his regular gaming circle.

I'll not steal his thunder, as the superb web-based campaign system is his doing and he's blogging about it in detail: but I will note that this promises to be fun, though I'm a little nervous about being the overall french commander of eight whole Corps.

My first set of orders went in today, and the master map (at least, as far as I can see it from my viewpoint) is ready to be updated with reports from the field. The plan is, I gather, that battles will be fought using variously Principles of War and Grand Armée in 6mm, and possibly, if we have a brigade-sized skirmish, I might petition to see if we can give Napoleon At War a crack.

All in all, I'm looking forward to this. Watch this space, although updates will be, perforce, a little behind, partly because it's Gavin's show and partly because, well, les Anglais might be reading!

[As a note - these posts will be tagged with 'vive l'empereur' if you want to find them!]