[Growltigga]

Whilst enjoying his beer and slightly hazed from the violence and the bloodfest of the Byzantine military might holding off the mongol horde, Growltigga spies his evil twin brother standing in the shadows

Growltigga leans over to Dogscoff and whispers "change of plan old mate, marshal your hordes of bedouin camel warriors, arabic heavu infanty and nubian spearmen, I spy my evil twin Drooltigga in the corner and he needs a damn good thrashing and no mistake". Growltigga pulls out his theme-o-matic and proceeds to change into the persona of El Cid.

He sneaks to the kitchen where a new Valencian army is assembled. The fridge light shimmers off the tips of the heavy infantry, off the points of
the lances of the serried ranks of Knights of Santiago and Jinetes, off the mercenary crossbowman who have come along for the party and also off the helmets of the ballista crews.

"Right amigos" says Growltigga mounting his beautifully caparisoned war-tyrannosaurus, "the plan is to hit that evil twin with everything we have, no quarter is to be given, give him cold steel and remember that these evil tigers dont like it up them, and by the way, the Almohad army that will assaulting on the left flank are our allies so no taking sneaky pot shots at them"

With a flurry of trumpets and wardrums, the battle host charges out to give Ragnarok, sorry, Drooltigga, a damn good thrashing