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Like the title says, my new blog is here - http://bewarethebeastof.blogspot.com/

Last night we had a naval wargame. It is the fourth time I've used the 'Seekrieg 4' rules and this time we refought the 'Battle of Ulsan', a naval battle the occurred in the Russo-Japanese war. Like their historical counterparts the Japanese squadron won the day but this time two Russian ships were lost rather than only one.

Has it happened I didn't have the miniatures to represent the ships involved so rather than pretend and proxie. I used a scanner, printer, cardboard, glue and a sharp knife to make up these carboard miniatures.

The Romans lined up against the ancient Britons last Friday night in the latest head to head clash for these two old adversaries. The Britons were out in full team colours with cockerel mascots in all quarters, even the Captain Head Honcho was in fine form grabbing a spot in the frontline aboard his white charger chariot. And a fine model it is too, with red trim and gold detailing. The Romans on the other hand were fitting fit with chest thrust forward, all decked out with shiny green shields, their coach will be pleased with how spiffy they looked!

The Britons were destined to suffer at the hands of the "my god is it a decade and two versions of the rules since I last played?" defensive midfielder Beth Fulton and the inexperienced winger Brian Thompson. This showed from the out with the warbands being broken into blocks and placed in the second rank. The fact they were filing their teeth on their swords should have given away how silly a move that was! These boys were keen for action and wussy pos, psoloi... (bloody sharp stick throwers however you spell it!) and some men on dog-sized packets of horsemeat weren't going to stop them sticking it to the upstart boot-dwellers across the way.

The Romans on the other hand were their usually immensely disciplined self and were used expertly by the vastly experienced Carl.

It started out looking promising for Carl as the early initiative rolls were their usually trully abysmal selves for Brian and Beth and every unit with the words war and band in them went completely rank. Luckily the fact the enemy was dead ahead (and horses can out run supposedly friendly wild eyed maniacal beserkers) meant all the impetuousness didn't hurt too much.

Just as Carl got that warm knowing feeling and saw the chickens flying into roost the evil hand of the central limit theorem came in and turned the knob to BBQ. Next thing you know the Roman right flank is being picked from Britonian teeth and things are red and sticky in the centre of the field.

Thrust, parry, duck, leap, feint... and its down to 2 units from either side and the other guy wins. Really edge of the seat sweat inducing stuff (well would have been sweat inducing if there wasn't a chilly rainstorm battering the place giving the entire event eerie omens of impending doom....).

Beth's Britons have only two stands (coincidentally the very number needed for victory) of artillery between them and Roman baggage for dinner. But what's that Carl's shish kebabed the horses from two chariots?!

Oh so close the sweet smell of victory snatched from the Britons nostrils. Oh the wailing, oh the lamenting. Quick someone pass me the chopped up leaves, the ones the druid said to chew at moments like this ... what do you mean the cup they were in has been filled by all the rain and left by a fire so is steaming hot?! Dammit that is no way to treat good leaves! Mmmm actually not bad, only needs a little milk or maybe something from the citrus family... lemon perhaps?