The horns sounded, the lances lowered, and the knights of Bretonnia rode to war once more! Warhammer: The Old World has finally returned to Gozo, and with it, Duke Gaspard’s Flying Circus took the field in all its questionable glory. Facing off against Noel’s newly mustered Beastmen, this game was a mix of strategy, spectacle, and the kind of slapstick failures that would make even the most stalwart of knights reconsider their vows.
If you came looking for a tale of gallant heroics, crushing victories, and the righteous smiting of chaos… well, you might want to check another battle report. But if you enjoy trebuchets exploding for no reason, Grail Knights suffering from a sudden bout of existential dread, and a Bretonnian Duke who decided that death was merely a strong suggestion, then you’re in for a treat.
A Trebuchet’s Last Stand (Immediately)
No sooner had the battle begun than my trusty trebuchet, a noble war machine designed to rain righteous judgment upon the forces of darkness, took it upon itself to demonstrate the dangers of subpar craftsmanship.
The first shot of the game: Misfire. But not just any misfire—oh no, that would be too simple. This was the worst result possible: immediate self-destruction.
And thus, in the very first turn, my proud Bretonnian artillery crew fulfilled their duty… to the enemy. Perhaps they were secretly Beastmen sympathizers. Perhaps they had been drinking. Perhaps the trebuchet just felt like exploding. Either way, they fled the battlefield, undoubtedly yelling something along the lines of “It’s just a flesh wound!” as they disappeared into the hills.
The Grail Knights and the Charge That Wasn’t
With the trebuchet gone, it was time for my Grail Knights to prove their worth—the finest warriors in Bretonnia, the chosen of the Lady, sworn to glorious combat and unbreakable courage.
Naturally, they failed their charge.
Perhaps the ground was muddy. Perhaps their warhorses were unionized and staging a go-slow protest. Perhaps I had just rolled terribly. Whatever the cause, instead of crashing into the enemy lines, my knights performed an honorable advance to precisely nowhere, leaving them staring at the enemy while awkwardly shuffling in their saddles.
Meanwhile, Noel’s Bray-Shaman, no doubt cackling behind his many layers of unwashed fur, prepared his response.
Duke Gaspard and the Most Inconvenient Death Ever
At this point, the battle took a turn for the ridiculous. Noel’s Bray-Shaman unleashed a devastating spell: 5D6 Strength 1 hits with no armor save allowed—which sounds about as threatening as a particularly aggressive breeze. But Bretonnians, ever the believers in fate, decided that this was, in fact, the most dangerous thing to ever happen on a battlefield.
Duke Gaspard, the fearless and noble leader of my army, promptly decided he was dead.
He wasn’t actually dead, mind you—he had merely suffered from what I can only describe as a sudden and overwhelming lack of interest in continuing the battle. While his fellow knights fought on, he simply refused to acknowledge his own existence for the rest of the game. One can only assume he lay on the ground dramatically, making vague groaning noises while waiting for a squire to fetch him a medieval cup of tea and a nice lie down.
The Grail Knights Find Their Purpose (Sort Of)
Eventually, my Grail Knights did manage to charge something, and once they remembered that they were, in fact, elite warriors of legend, they proceeded to absolutely wreck a few chaff units. Lances shattered, swords flashed, and for a brief, glorious moment, Bretonnia actually looked competent.
Unfortunately, they never managed to get to the real threats, leaving the battlefield with that classic Bretonnian feeling of, “Well, at least we looked good while doing it.”
The Old World Awakens (And So Might the Duke, Eventually)
Despite the battlefield mishaps, this game was a fantastic reintroduction to The Old World—equal parts majestic and utterly ridiculous, which is exactly what Bretonnians should be. It was great to get the knights back on the table, even if they spent half the game failing to charge, getting obliterated by questionable magic, or engaging in flamboyant but strategically useless heroics.
More importantly, The Old World has officially returned to Gozo. Noel, ever the veteran wargamer, is thrilled to finally get games locally—no more braving the open seas just to roll some dice. And with more players dusting off their armies and new recruits stepping up, this is just the beginning.
If you’re in Gozo and want to join the fun—whether to fight for honor, revel in destruction, or simply witness the comedic misadventures of Duke Gaspard firsthand—reach out. The battlefield is calling. The knights are mustering. And sooner or later, the Duke will probably decide to live again.