Le Chanson de Bob - Chapter IV

Many months have passed
Since last we sang
Of Robert Eponge
And his cheesy Breton knights

And in that long time
The people of Brittany have celebrated
A lot
With feasting,
Substantial cheese consumption
And an excess of wine,
Curious liqueurs,
Pommeau,
Calvados,
Crème de coing,
And even the nasty stuff that people in this part of the world call beer

So much so
That the hangover of the Bretons
Lasted even longer than the celebrations.

But a few of those
Who survived the party
Recalled the exploits of their hero
Robert Eponge
And the battle they won
Which is scribed here by our skald
Basculf the Unwashed
Recalling the tale
As best as anyone can remember
Filling in gaps in memory
With suitably apocryphal embellishment

So
It was on an open field
On the borders of Brittany
That a force of brave and particularly hairy Vikings
(Not for the first time)
And their Warlord
Einar Jonatansson
(That's right, the other one with the saga written in this blog)
Were met by Robert's brave Bretons

Einar Jonatansson
Unlike certain other leaders of hairy Viking factions
(see Chapter II)
Was very much not unready
Although he did make it clear he wasn't particularly happy about the openness of the terrain, the fact that he was facing Bretons, and various other matters, while his skald took notes, just in case.

The fearless Bretons, however
Might in this case themselves have been considered unready
For they were unfamiliar with recent changes
That had been made to the code of battle
The message evidently failing to reach them
(Or more likely they had not read their email or looked at Facebook recently)

And hence
Their order of battle proved particularly poorly thought out
Fielding one very large unit of knights
That after deployment realised they had left their War Banner at home

"Bum!"
Thought Robert Eponge
"Ha!"
Taunted Einar Jonatansson
"Ha!"
Jeered the hairy Viking horde
"Ha!"
Wrote Einar Jonatansson's skald
"S***"
Thought the banner bearer
Who understood that someone
Was in for a good slapping
(Probably him)
And would have said
"It's not my fault!"
But for the fact that
It was

The hairy Vikings charged
The Bretons fled, shooting
The hairy, sweating Vikings charged again
The Bretons scattered, shooting
The hairy, sweating, tired Vikings charged once more
But the Bretons would not be caught
And shot them again
And again

Thus
Though war-banner-less
The speed of the Breton horsemen
Aided by the openness of the battlefield
Combined with their use of the incredibly cheesy In All Directions ability
Meant the Vikings
Hairy, sweating and slow
Could not catch them

Jeer as they might
They were slowly
(Slower than if the Bretons had brought their War Banner, at least)
Picked off by relentless Breton javelins

Eventually
The Vikings
Hairy
Sweaty
Tired
And incredibly frustrated with this most irritating enemy
(Though not by any means disgraced)
Were considered defeated

The Viking skald was politely informed of precisely what would happen to him if he wrote about this in the Saga of Einar Jonatansson
And the Vikings called it a day and went home

As said above
With his final victory
There was much rejoicing in the land
King Bob was proclaimed
The greatest of all Warlords
And the Bretons
Were declared
The cheesiest
Of all factions
And
(Excepting House Rules and/or changes in the official FAQ)
The least likely to be invited to take part in future campaigns

Thus
At last
Our saga comes to an end

Thanks be to God

Although...

There is some talk
Of Robert Eponge
And his Breton knights
Turning up at a tournament somewhere
So as to demonstrate to the world
The power of Breton cheese

Well, you never know…

Le Chanson de Bob - Chapter III

In which we speak of events that unfolded after the Battle of Ubba's Mound, of the restoration of the confidence of the people of Brittany in their Lord Robert Eponge, and of his further adventures against the enemies of that fair land.

And so it was that

Robert Eponge returned home

Travelling through his lands

Before him

Word had spread

Of the battle at Ubba's Mound

Of the worthy deeds of the Breton knights

And of their great victory over the Vikings

The people of Brittany rejoiced

(The concerns they had previously expressed conveniently put aside)

And there was celebration throughout the land

Fine wine was uncorked

Tables were laden with all good things

Including many smelly cheeses

And the people feasted

Church bells rang

Choirs sang

All gave praise to God

And Robert Eponge

Lord of Brittany

Found his authority considerably improved

Word of these events spread

Even into other lands

Of that battle

Of the exploits of the Breton knights

Of the scattering of the hairy invaders

And of Ubba's humiliation

And the enemies of Brittany were filled with dread

Thus

Robert Eponge

(His reputation going before him)

Travelled throughout his lands

Visiting towns and villages

Showing his presence

Basking in glory

And collecting outstanding taxes that had previously been withheld

So, as the daylight began to fade

Approaching one such hamlet

The army of Robert Eponge

(Which was scattered over a fairly wide area)

Encountered a new enemy

Hiding behind a building

A small force of Anglo-Danes

(Their army was also spread about the land)

A band of rough peasant archers

And armoured spearmen

Tall swarthy Saxlanders

Chosen men

Protectors of their Lord

Thorvald Heldigson

Known by reputation

From Miklagard to Aarsborg

As among the bravest of leaders

Most warlike in manner

Greatest of victors

Mightiest of Warlords

Who had never known defeat

Hiding behind a building

Word was sent by both leaders

To their armies, to gather at this place

A small hamlet, tucked between rocky ground and fields

On the borders of Brittany

The army of Robert Eponge

Deployed in open ground

The brave knights of Patrick Etoile

Arrayed beneath the banner of Brittany

On the left flank

As usual

Warriors

Protecting Robert himself

On the right

The army of Thorvald Heldigson

In tight formation

Archers inside the building

Arrows notched, ready to shoot

Huscarls behind

Protecting their Lord

And so the armies stood for a while

Facing each other

Sort of

With a building between them

Anglo Danes

Wary of the reputation of their enemy

Waiting for reinforcements

Or for the Bretons to move into range of their archers

Or make some other silly tactical error

Bretons

Wary of the reputation of their enemy

Waiting to see what the Anglo-Danes would do

Or for some sort of sign from Heaven

Or something

(And pretty soon coming to the realisation that their approach wasn't a particularly great winning tactic if all the Anglo-Danes were going to do was hide in the building and wait for the Bretons to do something)

The arrival of the remainder of the Breton army

One small unit of knights from the rear

One unit of Warriors beside the rocky ground to the left

(Who had travelled swiftly after receiving news of the situation)

Prompted Robert Eponge into action

Otherwise, it seemed very likely that very little would happen

Cautiously

The Bretons advanced

Closing down the distance

But casting their minds back to lessons learned from cheesy Norman

Sensibly keeping sufficiently far away from the enemy archers not to be shot at

More Anglo-Danish forces then arrived

Spearmen reinforcing those hiding behind the building

And more bow-armed peasants, advancing into the rocky ground

Though there was no sign from Heaven

Robert Eponge realised

The moment was now or never

To take the initiative

(Though he did momentarily consider not taking it)

The knights of Patrick Etoile advanced

Letting loose a volley of javelins

Into the building

Three peasants fell dead

And the knights backed off to what they thought was a safe distance

In that moment

The Anglo-Danes seized their chance

To counterattack

For while the knights had backed off

They had not moved far enough away

To be sure of safety

Furthermore

The Breton Warriors

Moving slowly past the rocky ground

Were in much the same predicament

The peasants advanced and took aim

Remaining amongst the rocks on the flank

Advancing into the open before the building.

Arrows were loosed

But with God on their side

Not a single Breton knight fell

And only two Warriors met their death

The knights then advanced

Throwing javelins once, twice

And all the peasants before the house were slain

As the last of the enemy arrived

The Bretons fell back

To positions in the open ground

Occasionally sniping at the enemy

Who remained hiding in cover

Thorvald's men hid

Praying for nightfall

Making their escape

Soon as fading light allowed

Once again

Valiant Robert Eponge

Protector of Brittany

Had seen off the enemies of that fair land

He gave arm rings to his men

And others

Dogs of War

Mercenaries from distant lands

Seeking honour and plunder

Rallied to his banner

And Robert Eponge returned in glory

To the acclaim of his people

Who, honouring his deeds

Proclaimed him Duc

Thanks be to God

And

Robert Eponge

Duc de Bretagne

Le Chanson de Bob - Chapter II

In which we tell the tale of events after the attack of the cheesy Normans, of Robert Eponge's facing the army of the invader Ubba "The Unready" and his force of hairy plunder-seeking Viking raiders, and of the confrontation that is known to history as "The Battle of Ubba's Mound".

Once more we sing of brave Robert

Who, despite seeing off the cheesy Norman invader

From the borders of his land

Was now under a bit of pressure.

The cost of dispersing that barbarous foe

Had been high

Many were the brave knights of Brittany

That had fallen in that noble endeavour.

And hence many too were the people of Brittany

Who had lost sons and husbands

And who

Quite frankly

Weren't at all happy with the situation.

Questions were being asked

About Robert Eponge

About his right to rule the land

His authority to command the army

And his general level of competence.

Robert himself

Was rightly worried

He sensed his people on the brink of rebellion

And knew he had to do something about it

PDQ

Worse still

This unfortunate situation

Was apparent to other jealous neighbours

And further abroad,

Even to those in distant lands

For word had spread to all corners of the world

Of the rich pickings of Brittany

There for the taking

For whoever might try

And of its weak defenders

Who could scarcely be considered the equal of warriors of any other nation

Given the rumours of their pathetic showing against the cheesy Normans

These tales reached the eager ears of one

Hairy Viking

Ubba

Ambitious for glory

Hungry for adventure

Greedy for plunder

(Yet known as Unready)

But ready he made himself, and

His tall-prowed longship

With battle-ready hairy Viking crew

Soon made land on Breton shores

The Breton villagers

On spotting this foe

Were filled with dread

And fled into the hills and

(Temporarily putting aside thoughts of revolution for the time being)

Sent word to the court of Robert Eponge

Demanding help

Robert

(Who was not wholly blind to the obvious)

Saw that this was the opportunity he needed

To "do something about it PDQ"

And so

He did

The armies of Ubba and Robert Eponge

Made battle beside a mound-like hill

Open ground, a space between woodland and fields, a village to its south.

Robert faced the east, warriors to his left and right

His four household guards beside him

The twelve Machiterns of his faithful knight

Patrick Etoile

Bearing the Standard of Brittany

On his left

Preparing to charge

Opposite, facing west

Ubba

Flanked by hairy warriors

Hairier Huscarls on the flanks

And really hairy Berserkers

Made hairier by the skins they wore

Hiding

Beside the edge of a wood

Off to one side

Trying to be clever

Contemplating some sneaky trick

Suddenly

The calm was broken

Breton battle-horns sounded

Machiterns charged Huscarls

Throwing javelins once, twice, three times

Until the huscarls on that flank had all fallen dead

To their left the Machiterns then swarmed

Loosing more javelins

The trees could not protect the hairiest ones

Who all died too

And the Machiterns reformed their line.

"Bum"
Thought Ubba

(Who really had been unready)

And considered his options.

Briefly considering running away

(But he was too far from his ship)

He reconsidered, and

Having lost his right flank

Adjusted his battle plan

And advanced on the left instead.

Dressing their lines

Resting their horses

Robert's household knights advanced

Javelins were thrown

But Ubba's men were not deterred

And advanced, ignoring fatigue

Closing down the distance

Cornering Robert's household knights.

As resting Machiterns watched and

Warriors cautiously backed away

The cornered household knights charged

Uncharacteristically

Unexpectedly

(Some thought unwisely)

Tired Viking warriors

Bravely met their foe

Thinking the odds even

They were ready

But the Bretons had a trick up their sleeve

In mid-charge, loosing javelins

At the Vikings

Who were unready

And fate had deserted them

Slaying but one Breton knight

As five of their own number fell

Ubba

Determined

Charged with his huscarls

Ready or not

But the Bretons had another trick

No longer cornered

And instead of fighting, ran away

Ubba

Undeterred

(If a little frustrated)

Threw his Warriors at Robert's household knights

Finally getting rid of them

Albeit at equal cost

And in desperation

Threw them in at the Machiterns too

But in defence the horsemen were strong

Withstanding the attack

Slaying the warriors

Sowing the ground with Viking blood

Thus Ubba

On the mound-like hill

With three brave warriors remained

And called to Odin for help

And in desperation

Charged

But

Unready

He fell

And thus

(So it turned out)

"Something had been done about it PDQ"

Robert Eponge

Returned home in glory

Ubba didn't

Dragged off by his three remaining men

Finally home after an extremely slow  boat trip.

The Saga of Einar Jonatansson - Chapter 2.

Moving south from the lands of the Norse Gael we entered the territory of an Irish chieftain called Finn Mac Blatha. For two days we continued south looting and burning Irish hamlets for little reward beyond a couple of red haired beauties captured and given over to my warriors for sport.

Toward mid-day of the third day our path was blocked by an Irish warband led by Finn Mac Blatha himself and intent on doing us harm.

The ground was open except for a small bog on our left rear and a large field of winter barley on the Irish left rear. I thought Mac Blatha had chosen poor ground to make his stand against me and I smiled.

Mac Blatha deployed his warband behind a thin screen of levy archers. On his far left were two units of eight warriors deployed one behind the other with their flank secured on the cropfield. In the centre stood Mac Blatha supported by two champions with six Hearthguard immediately to his right. Out on his right wing was another unit of eight warriors. I saw none of the much vaunted war dogs the Irish peasants had boasted of!

I deployed my shieldwall opposite the Irish centre with eight warriors on the left and two units of six Hearthguard on the right. I stood with the berserkers behind the shieldwall. My archers were placed further out on my right opposite the left wing of the Irish.

Mac Blatha spoke to his warriors calling them to red war against us and I saw him bestow an arm rings on one of his Hearthguard.

Not to be outdone I in turn awarded an arm ring to the leader of the Hearthguard unit that formed the right of my shieldwall. My men banged weapons on shields and screamed their war cries at the enemy.

The Irish moved first and ordered their archers forward to shoot us. I called to Odin for protection and he answered with a sudden mist that hid us from view. One of the enemy champions moved to support the warriors on the Irish left.

From the start there was Irish magic at work and for much of the fight the enemy levy were obscured by a mist that prevented my archers from shooting them. Fortunately, the Irish chieftain had made a mistake and my archers had sight on one of the warrior units deployed beyond their levy screen. By personal command I pushed my archers forward and further right before unleashing two volleys on the exposed enemy warriors and killing two.

Stung by the archery Mac Blatha ordered the remaining six warriors forward and hurled javelins at my levy but Asgard protected them from harm. The enemy warriors remained unbowed and launched themselves into melee with my archers. For the loss of two of their own my doughty archers killed two enemies and pushed them back. The Irish champion moved further forward in support of the warriors.

Invoking Ragnarok my archers shot down one more Irish warrior before I sent my right hand Hearthguard charging across the field and into the remaining three warriors. Two enemies fell for no loss and the Hearthguard continued the attack into the Irish champion. My men were tired but their leader dedicated his arm ring to Thor who answered by refreshing them with renewed vitality. The Irish champion fell in a welter of axe, sword and spear blows while my brothers remained unharmed. Loki snatched the last Irish warrior screaming from this world!

Mac Blatha was not done yet and after shooting down four of my archers with his levy sent the second warrior unit on his left forward against my triumphant Hearthguard killing one with javelins.

In response my Hearthguard attacked the warriors and after a hard fight that cost us three brave men slaughtered all the enemy warriors.

I pushed forward with my shieldwall and Berserkers.

At this moment the Gods deserted us and three of my Hearthguard fell to Irish archery. The battle hung in the balance.

The red mist descended as I lead my three Hearthguard in a final charge against the enemy archers calling on Frigg, Ullr and Thor we chopped down most of the enemy for no loss and the Irish abandoned the field to us. Thanks be to Odin.

Le Chanson de Bob - Chapter I

Being the First Chapter in the Song of Robert; in which we introduce the Hero Robert Eponge, and tell of his first battle, defending the land of the Bretons against a sneaky attack by their cheesy Norman neighbours.

Our song is of Robert Eponge,

Hero of the land of Brittany,

Of noble lineage,

Descended from the great heroes of old.

Conan, for example, was one of these

(The real one, that is, not the barbarian).

Robert Eponge, master swordsman,

Also unsurpassed in skill at spear-throwing,

As you would expect.

Spear-throwing, you understand, being a tradition of the Bretons

For which they among all people excel

(Even compared to the Welsh).

Though there are numerous tales of Bob's heroic deeds

Of his slaying of monsters

Saving damsels in distress

(And that sort of thing)

We don't need go into them here.

It stands to reason that

He is a well-respected ruler and totally worthy of the role.

Of course he is.

The proud Bretons he commands

Are a noble, peace-loving folk and generally all-round good guys.

They are the descendants of ancient peoples,

Keepers of the old traditions

And respectful custodians of their lands.

Brittany is after all a beautiful place

And, understandably, coveted by jealous foreigners.

The Bretons, therefore, have many enemies

Most of whom are, (as is often related in epic poems like this), ignorant pagans

Who have never even heard of

The Lord God Almighty,

Let alone behave like decent folk.

And who therefore deserve to be utterly wiped off the face of the earth

As is traditional for those who disagree with peace loving Christians.

The Normans that live nearby are just that sort of people.

Vagabonds, newly arrived in adjacent lands,

Strange, devil-worshipping foreigners.

They are troublesome, ambitious and greedy

And intolerant of their neighbours.

They have no respect for anyone.

They raid for plunder and conquest.

Yes they all deserve to die.

One such Norman goes by the devilish, frightening and altogether foreign-sounding name of

Alain.

Who calls himself "le Roux".

(Which we believe is some kind of cheese).

He is an enemy of Brittany as well as many other nations.

His men yearn for plunder

And are jealous of the peace-loving Bretons.

Worse, they fight without honour and use cheesy tricks.

One day these troublesome Normans move to attack

The peace-loving people of Brittany,

Their evil hearts are bent on gold and loot.

News of their approach soon reaches Brittany

And as they cross the border lands and attack outlying villages

Robert Eponge comes forth to face them in battle.

The army of Robert Eponge is made of many noble horsemen.

Select knights of his household,

And a contingent of nobles led by his faithful general

Patrick Etoile,

Who ride beneath the banner of Brittany.

And as many brave warriors join them,

Having taken up spear and horse

To see off the enemy that has invaded their lands.

It is the early light of dawn.

The Normans and Bretons meet at a village on the borders of Brittany

That the enemy have already occupied, raided, plundered, looted

And eaten all the croissants.

As the sun rises and disperses the morning mist

As the armies see each other.

The Normans lurk in the village

(Cowards)

Archers on each flank hiding in cover

(Cowering cowards)

Crossbowmen hiding in a building in the centre

(Cowardly crossbowmen)

The only few worthies,

Who may look like noble knights

But actually have the hearts of common robbers,

On horseback in the centre,

Advance, as if to attack.

The Bretons, cautious,

Remain concealed in the darkness,

Keeping away from the Norman cowards

That shoot with impunity at those they can see

from the cover of buildings and bushes

"Come out and fight, cheesy Normans"

Brave Bob challenges,

But, fearfully the enemy stays lurking,

Shooting from their hiding places,

Dealing ignoble death unfairly upon their noble adversaries.

The Norman knights advance,

But, seeing their foe before them, hesitate

And then run away.

Covered by their cowardly archers

They dare not engage brave Robert's men in noble battle.

Bravely

(And, some might not unreasonably say, unwisely),

The Bretons advance.

They throw their javelins many times

And many of the enemy fall.

But, lured into the open,

The Bretons find themselves at the mercy of the cowardly archers.

Dirty tricksters who have evidently summoned the power of demons

So that they can shoot their arrows farther than is humanly possible.

Which is really not very decent of them given the range of Breton javelins.

And so many brave Breton knights and warriors fall

Slain by these cowardly arrows that come out of the darkness.

Patrick Etoile rides forth.

"Camembert!" he cries, challenging the cheesy enemy,

Leading his brave knights to the edge of the village.

The best spear-throwers of Brittany

Use all their abilities to throw javelins accurately at the enemy through windows and doors.

The dice are cast,

(A lot of them, with very good factors in their favour)

But the luck of the devil is with the enemy and only a single man falls dead.

Finally Patrick Etoile,

Leads a charge at the enemy cavalry,

The banner of Brittany flying gloriously in the wind.

Javelins fly,

Many Norman knights die,

As well as half of the enemy crossbowmen,

And the battle is even.

But the enemy is fierce in defence,

Yet more cowardly shooting

Slays the flower of Brittany,

And gives the Normans time to escape.

The raiders flee like the cowards they are.

They run back home, taking their plunder,

Seen off from the fair fields of Brittany.

The price paid has been high.

Many are the brave Breton knights that have died today

On this field of battle.

But it could have been worse.

(Oh yes).

Thanks be to God

The Saga of Caradog ap Llewellyn - Chapter One

Once again the English crossed the border into my lands looking for gold and slaves. This time the invader was Guffer AEg-Stank, he of the strange accent.

I decided to confront them at a river crossing not far from the border and arrived at the place toward mid morn. The river is fast flowing and deep with two wooden bridges across it. In front of the left bridge on my side of the river is an area of rocky ground and I placed my archers within supported by four warriors. To the right of the rocky ground betwixt the two crossings is a crop field, high with winter barley, and I placed eight of my Hearthguard here so that they could respond to attack across either bridge. The ground around the right hand bridge is open and I placed twelve warriors opposite the crossing to defend it and supported them with my four remaining Hearthguard.  I took my place with the Hearthguard in the field and awaited Guffer.

He soon appeared across the valley and formed his warband to attack my position. He deployed two units of eight axe wielding Hearthguard and a unit of eight warriors opposite the left bridge. His last unit of eight warriors deployed close to the right hand bridge.

The English began banging weapons on shields to raise their courage. In response my brave boys sung Men of Harlech, drowning out the English clamour with Welsh harmony!

Guffer charged a unit of warriors and both units of Hearthguard across the left hand bridge, shouting encouragement from the rear. The warriors formed their shieldwall on my side of the river with a Heartguard unit on their right. The second Hearthguard unit formed on the bridge behind the warriors. All seemed winded by the exertion.

My archers pulled back deeper into the rocks and loosed a volley at the enemy warriors which dropped one of them. I pushed my Hearthguard out of the barley field at a run and showered the English Hearthguards on the bridge with javelins but only saw one fall.

Guffer had his warriors charge my Hearthguard and my men slaughtered them like spring lambs without loss. Only three of the enemy warriors escaped death and fell back toward the bridge. The English on the bridge moved toward my Hearthguard but were reluctant to close with my men, cowed no doubt by the sight of our shields covered in English gore. Guffer was seen puffing his way across the bridge.

The English were where I wanted them, trapped in the killing ground. My archers, warriors and Hearthguard launched a torrent of arrows and javelins against the enemy Hearthguard killing six of them.

There followed a lull in the fighting during which Guffer withdrew the remnants of his warriors and decimated Hearthguards while advancing his remaining Hearthguard unit across the front of my levy to confront my Hearthguard.

Once again we deluged his Hearthguards with missiles but this time they formed a tight shieldwall that saved them from loss.

Guffer strode to the front of his men and led them in a charge against my Hearthguard. The fight was red tooth and claw and despite their bravery my men gave ground with the loss of five of their number. Four of the English fell to our swords.

My archers shot down two of the English warriors on the bridge but once again the enemy Hearthguard survived our javelins including four of my own casts.

With relentless determination Guffer charged again with his four Hearthguard and with despair I witnessed the slaughter of my three Hearthguard with no loss to the English.

I stood alone amongst the trampled barley confronted by Guffer and his four men. My four warriors moved out of the rocks in support and threw javelins at the enemy Hearthguard who deflected every dart. I made four casts at them but only killed one. My archers killed the last English warrior on the bridge as I glimpsed their warriors on the opposite side of the river moving toward the bridge on my left.

I cursed my decision to place my other four Hearthguard so far away, it would cost me this day.

Guffer and his last three Hearthguard charged me raining down axe blows that that rent my armour and split my shield in twain. A blow to my helmet knocked me unconscious.

When I came to my men related the last of the battle to me. My four brave warriors gave their lives to save me and killed one of the enemies Hearthguard. I had managed to kill another before I went down. The last of them was shot down by my archers.

Guffers last unit of warriors crossed the bridge and covered his withdrawal but lost three men to my archers as they did so.

Guffer claims the fight as honours even because he knocked me down. I say he went home with his tail between his legs. Thanks be to God.

The Saga of Einar Jonatansson - Chapter I

With the coming of the thaw my warriors grew restless for the vik.

I led them across the whale road to Ireland, the land of bog dwellers and little kings.

We landed in the north where the Norse Gael dwells. The race is a sorry dilution of noble Nordic blood with bastardised bog trotter.

In the early dawn we moved inland and found an abandoned longhouse with heart embers still glowing red. I sent my archers into the building and had them cut arrow loops in the walls while my hearthguards and warriors formed a shield wall outside.  To our left front loomed the only high ground in the area and opposite the longhouse on the other side of the clearing was a small wood, wreathed in an early morning mist that hung heavy across the land.

It wasn’t long before shadowy figures could be glimpsed in the misty half -light of dawn moving in the wood and to our front. Our visitors seemed nervous and over cautious.

I sent the warriors forward to tempt them in and ordered the archers out in support. Two groups of Norse Gael hearthguard appeared from the mist brandishing their dane axes and cursing us to the gods.

The archers shot two of the enemy down, forcing them to retire like whipped dogs.

My warriors moved bravely toward the wood and revealed enemy warriors also wielding dane axes. Our archers quickly send one of them to hell.

Finally the enemy found his courage and their warriors launched themselves at my warriors. Two of my brave lads met the axes of the enemy in personal challenge and went straight to Valhalla. 
Overwhelmed by the fierceness of the attack another five of my men fell to the deadly axes but took four of the enemy with them in red death.

My surviving warrior fell back as the archers shot down the last three enemy warriors and my shield wall advanced on the enemy.

The bloodletting seemed to have cowed the enemy who hung back from the fight again. The archers went forward and killed three more of their hearthguard with well-aimed shafts.

This proved too much for the Gaels who ran off into the mist.

A search of the longhouse rewarded us with hidden silver and an arm ring.

Hear my song of red war and tremble.

Author's Note

A great scholar writes:

"The Saga of Sagas comprises a series of poems and epic tales spanning across the British Isles and the north of what is now France. Its heroic narrative depicts the exploits of a collection of contemporary dark age warlords in their attempts to win glory through conquest and battle against each other. Compiled by an author known to history simply as Basculf the Unwashed, its narrative prose suggests that it in fact represents the work of a variety of different authors, each of whom relates the tale of one particular Warlord. Although stylistically varied, with narrative elements that belong to a bygone age, it lives in its own continuous present and hence remains a work of relevance to the modern day."

Well that's quite enough of that. This intermittent blog tells the tales of the rival Warlords in a Saga campaign run at Wycombe Warband. The posts making up the Saga of Sagas have been written by the players concerned from the point of view of their own forces. I make no claim whatsoever to their being wholly honest or accurately representative of events.

The rules used for the Campaign are a modified version of It's The Skald's Work... A Campaign for SAGA© from Tomahawk Studios & Gripping Beast, by Rich Jones, April 2012, modified for Wycombe Warband by Jon Houchin. You can download the original at http://www.aftermath-club.co.uk/campaigns/saga/Writing%20a%20Saga%20v2.pdf.

Basculf the Unwashed, writing on the first day of the Campaign