Suddenly, with blood-curdling war cries, a horde of Picts and Caledonians charge from the woods towards the wall.
As the day wears on the battle rages
But the wall is well nigh impenetrable -
and the legionaries shower pila and arrows down on the attackers. The lucky ones retreat, while the less fortunate lie moaning and dying, their blood soaking into their native land.
The surviving chieftans gather for a war council. Many arguments for AND against renewing the attack are put forward.
One chief thinks that their war paint is not scary enough, and comes up with a new look.
Dawn the next day. The legionaries huggle on the walltops, scanning the north for the next warband.
Horror of horrors, CLOWN ATTACK!