I am back from Historicon. I am NOT covered with glory and honors, but I had a great time. I also bought way too many new toys and spent way too much money. I'm ready to do it all again! The drive up took over 14.5 hours. There was a lot of road work and traffic delays. The trip includes over 800 km on Interstate 81. Argh! It is a total of about 1300 km to the convention site. The drive was long, but we went up the Shenandoah Valley with all of the history that is entailed. I talked with Paul as I drove and got sorne interesting bits of knowledge from the region aside from the ACW campaigns. We finally arrived and checked into the hotel at the convention site, then we registered for the con. Neither of us had bothered to pre-register. I showed Paul around the venue and then we shot off to the dealers' area. Yee-HA! So many toys, so little money.
Thursday night I trotted my Anglo-Normans out for a bit of carnage. We were out to prove that we were the best in the British Isles. As it turned out, all of the fighting occurred in Britain. We charged about and attacked all 3 times, thus allowing others to be troubled with such tripe as determining the location of the battle field. We were out for conquest!
A strange fog greeted the army as it awoke and men stirred from their tents. The markers that had been by the road the previous evening had disappeared! So had the road! What strange sorcery was afoot. Rumors came into camp that the ghost of the Green Man had been seen flitting about through a copse of ancient oaks. Then men broke their fast and prepared themselves. They were still in England, but where? More to the point, when'? The sun climbed into the sky and burned off the fog. Off in the distance was a cloud of dust and the glint of steel. The banners were strange and most of the army were foot. The strangers and the Anglo-Normans deployed across from each other. It was only then that we could clearly see our foe, Marian Romans! England was again invaded by the Roman Empire! This time they would find the locals clad in a bit more than woad. The Romans deployed between steep hills and a dark wood of oak. The Anglo-Normans drew up to meet them with a battle of 4 spear companies supported by 1 of psiloi and 2 of bow. There were 4 companies of knights and one of lighter cavalry composed of Bretons. The mounted were in two battles, one to either side of the foot.
(My opponent was young and had not played much DBA ver 2.0 and none of v2.1. I went over the salient points for him. The worst thing was that he did not realize that Knights "Quick Kill" Blades now. That really didn't prove to be his downfall, but it sure didn't help him any.)
The Romans had roamed into the wrong part of England. They were expecting chariots, tattoos, and limed hair. They had missed the train to Soho and had ended up here. They were drawn up into a center of heavy foot 2 deep except, for the ends, which were only I deep. At either end of the main line, but not touching it, was a company of psiloi. Behind the center of the rear was the general. We sent our heavy foot up at a good marching speed to pin the Romans before they could redeploy. To each side was deployed a wing of cavalry, the finest in England. The Bretons made contact with the psiloi on the Roman right flank whilst a company of knights supported.
It was over in a trice and the poor Romans never really knew what manner of warriors had hit them. Even the Germans had never mounted such a devastating charge. (Cv with support vs Ps and something like a 5-1 roll.) The Romans were shocked. Then the Anglo-Norman knights on the left flank found the lone Blade on the Roman right. A frontal charge with overlap (or flank) and he went down hard and fast. A short while later, knights with overlap trampled the psiloi on the other end and smacked into the line of heavy foot singing songs of victory. The battle was soon over and the Anglo-Normans spent the rest of the day amusing themselves with the prisoners, who thought that they were going to be made to fight to the death in victory games, and tearing through the baggage of these strange folk. The locals went to sleep well fed and drowsy with wine. None noticed the fog set in again, as the ghost of the Green Man danced in the wood.
The men woke again and again were surprised by the changes. All of the Romans were gone. All of the cuts on the faces of the shields were gone. The terrain was yet again different, but still England. To the left were forests. To the right was a bit of rough (or a hill or something). There was another army. This one was composed of men much like themselves. Their banners caused shock and awe to spread through the ranks of the Anglo-Normans, for these were their own ancestors, the Normans. (And they were very nicely painted, too.)
Both sides deployed and advanced. The field was split by the woods to my left. The Normans placed a command of 4 elements in including a LH (Light Horse) on my left flank on the far side of the woods. I held them in place with a cav and bow combo. My spear were 3 broad with the right-most being 2 deep initially and positioned in the center. To the right, in a separate battle, were the knights. The Anglo-Normans again advanced at best speed. Pips were good one the first turn and the most intrusive bit of wood was reached by the hard-moving company of psiloi. These then turned to the right to menace the right flank of the Norman knights.
The Anglo-Norman spear was advanced and pivoted right to help pin the flank of the Norman knights, who were very cautious. The Anglo-Norman knights found a seam in the Norman line and drew blood. Soon the Normans were forced apart and PIP drain was slowing them. The Anglo-Normans found the flanks again and again as bow and psiloi menaced knights from the forest. At last the Norman general had had enough. He surrendered to his great-grandson with a sense of pride in his progeny and a feeling that the realm was safe with the new army.
After another good evening of wine, women, and songs my army turned in for the night. The ghost of the Green Man danced again in the oak wood and another fog descended on the Anglo-Normans. When the awoke, they knew that they were somewhere else. They were in Scotland! At last, a foe that they really knew. Alas, the general was the ultimately successful Mark Pozniak (who also knocked me out last year .... ) There were steep hills across the field of battle. The Scots Isles and Highlanders, beautifully painted Thistle and Rose figs, deployed in a clearly visible ambush. Without going to deeply into the painful details, I forgot to dismount and got into ZOC (Zone of Control) trouble which allowed my mounted to be outmaneuvered by his blades. (oh the shame ... )
His warbanders finally found my spearmen and, being the forefathers of Sawney Bean, roasted them on their own spears. Suffice it to say that the terrain was expertly placed and that he lured me into death with his camp. Mark is a man to be reckoned with. It is no surprise that a player like him won the Midnight Madness tourney. I have to admit that I am surprised that he managed to do it with the army that he used. So were most of his opponents (a.k.a. victims).
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