The best tank terrain is that without anti-tank weapons. - Russian military manual

The Welsh

Starting Roster

Prologue

The Great Hall was noisy with the sounds of feasting. Boisterous men ate greedily, as dogs snapped at discarded scraps and servants fought past them bringing more food and drink to the tables. Yet, seated on his throne, Caradog, King of the Welsh, the son of Llewellyn, had hardly touched his meat. His gaze was fixed on the War Banner hanging idly on the wall, his thoughts far away, remembering battles fought years before. Happier times, perhaps, certainly more interesting; although he hadn't achieved as much as he had hoped from those wars. Yes, he'd made a name for himself. He was recognised throughout the lands as a great and noble Warlord - an Aetheling, even, with the right to rule. But his was still a small country, and he wasn't getting any younger. Now, it seemed, the time was right to create a legacy. To conquer the lands that his people deserved, and for him to rise above other Kings to rule them all.

Yes, he thought, his appetite suddenly returning, he would lead his people once more. He'd give them all the news later, when the Skalds began to tell their tales, and with God on his side, the Welsh would go to war again.

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