Before the event I had confided to my regular opponent that what I most feared facing in the An Heroic Example scenario was a tooled up Norman Lord. On a Warhorse.
So it was inevitable that my final game would have Normans as my opponents.
Still, at least I wouldn’t have any warbands with their pesky “autobreak” to worry about.
What’s that you say? First what? Oh, First Charge. How’s that work then...?
After my more forthright adventures in Snowdonia in the previous round I reverted to the horseshoe formation with the Kamel Korps on the left and my horse on the right. Carl had massed his Mounted Scary Dudes (I think that’s how they’re listed in the Shieldwall book) on his right. Meat and drink to the Kamel Korps I shouldn’t wonder.
To the right the Berber horse narrowly lost to some light horse, but the curse of Abd Inuff’s early demise (“Give it a rest Mrs Inuff!”) meant they promptly failed the test ran off and were cut down.
With the four games over there was the usual wrap-up. Despite not winning a single game I’d not coughed up enough VP’s to challenge for Wooden Spoon.
(Did I ever tell you about the time I came last in a Viking Event? They gave me the Woden Spoon.)
And nor had I won either best general or best painted army (I can dream can't I?). I had also given five pounds to charity in exchange for five dice that behaved as expected and failed to win me a single thing from Lord S’s sack of goodies.
So four losses, no prizes and a long journey home to look forward to, and yet I’d had another splendid day out. So unlike Orwell I wasn’t going home bitter and disillusioned, I was going home positive and happy with my hobby. Oh to try and explain to my wife that yes, I really needed some more soldiers, and no they weren’t really that expensive and yes I would paint these ones and no they wouldn't just be going in a box in the loft and...