It was a cold and miserable day, the gods had determined that the snow would come down. Our intrepid warriors came together at the meeting place before the long peregrination northwards. They stashed the equipment in the wagons, said farewell to their loved ones and mounted their trusty steeds. It was going to be tough, the weather was not conducive to their usual tactics of warfare and they would have to adapt. The last attempt to mount an effective attack finished in complete disarray, the weather in the northern regions conspiring to prevent the assault and it looked like this could be more of the same. The intelligence (If you could call it that) led them to believe that the attack was still on by the time they left their home village, and all they could do was put their trust in the gods of war.
This time weather or no weather they would fight the good fight, down to the last man, they may be a raggle taggle bunch of soldiers but one savage bloodless night together prior the commencement of battle will iron out any kinks and ensure the traditional cameraderie and pre-battle bonding prior to the descent of the fogs of war. They must learn to come together and to trust the men standing next to them, they cannot come home empty handed.
Kick off tomorrow during the day sometime…I’ll let ye know how they get on as soon as I know.