Gentlemen.
Let me introduce you to a small town, barely more than a village. It is the 1960's, not perhaps our 1960's, but a 1960s to someone. Mini skirts swing to the music of John, Paul, George and Pete; families gather around the TV to watch Star Trek, and the doings of Spock, No 1 and Captain Pike are avidly discussed all over the town, almost as much as the recent 4-2 World Cup victory; especially Weber's third goal. Oh, and Belgium is a totally nudist country. By law.
The town is to be found somewhere in Scotland, close to a city, but distant enough and secluded enough to be away from tourist trails and passing traffic. The town's name is Dragonhead (pronounced "draaaagunheeed".)
Before the war Dragonhead was the centre of a rural community, and it remained so until the RAF moved in in 1941 and established a training centre for wireless operators. In 1945, the RAF left, and Dragonhead resumed it's sleepy existence, and so it remained until 1959 when the County Council decided to upgrade Dragonhead as a "New Town". There was a spate of building – from different architects – resulting in what can only be described as a horrible mix of brutalist architecture monstrosities which clash horribly with the traditional building of the old Dragonhead. The town is now dominated by two tower blocks – named after local heroes the David Lloyd George Block and the Leon Trotsky Building – and known to the locals as Dave and Leon. Dave and Leon were filled with the poor and dispossessed from the bombed out areas of the Glasgow blitz, who remarkably settled to the countryside life with a minimum of fuss.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50665965721_b88263e32d_c.jpg)General view of Dragonhead
Dragonhead was blessed with a relatively large shopping centre, with all the best national chains in place: C&A, Woolworths, Fine Fare and, of course, a Green Shield Stamps outlet. Locals took over some of the units – for example Mr & Mrs Lewis moved their pet shop into some very swanky premises. There is also a library, a cinema, and other civic amenities. Incidentally, the librarian is a much gossiped about figure. Her name is Susan Swan, and appears on the surface to be a typical 30 something librarian; tight bun and glasses, demure attire and mild mannered – but on her desk is a photograph of a younger Susan Swan, taken in an African village, wearing baggy military fatigues and a headband, and casually toting a Soviet assault rifle. This extraordinary image gives rise to her local nickname - AK Su.
Older structures remain in Dragonhead. A row of Victorian tenements next to the Church of Milady of the Dimpled Knees. Three Nissen huts from the days of the RAF – one taken over by the local Scout group, one by the Women's Institute, and one by the local Wiccan coven. Although there were some eyebrows raised at this latter, they soon won support with their Summer Solstice barbeques. The huts nestle by the local village school, St Catherine of Bologna's County Primary – so re-named by the rather flamboyant headmistress, Molly Nary, who was enamoured by the patron saint of artists.
It was recognise by the council that the expanded town would need some sources of employment; it was recognised that the rural economy could not support all the incomers and so encouraged a couple of businesses to open manufacturing plants in the town. The first was a ladies' underwear manufacturer called "Undie Cover", which boasted it made underwear for all ages, from sexy nylon slips for the newly wed to traditional wool and tweed garments for the more matronly lady. This was the domain of the rather formidable Ethel (Eth) Oriel, a Yorkshirewoman on her third husband who spoke as she found. The second factory was set up by August Cameron ffoukes de Vere Marcher, (of the West Marchers). Jamsie, as he was known, had a keen interest in military matters and had set up a company making plastic kits in competition with Airfix. Many queried his first choice of subject, the Soviet T35 tank, but it sold well enough and now Jamsie has a thriving business.
Thus Dragonhead burbled on, ignored by and largely ignoring the rest of the world, until one seemingly ordinary day in late spring. Mrs Winstone was trying to call her son Ray (who managed the Dark Lord's Head pub) long distance. She received no answer, either at Son Ray's home or his workplace. She checked with the operator who could find no fault, but neither could she raise any telephone in Dragonhead. A Post Office man was duly despatched but he and his van did not return.
The Post Office reported the matter to the police, but the bobby who wobbled his bicycle into Dragonhead did not return. However, a local shepherd wandered into the police station with tales of odd goings on in Dragonhead. The Ministry was called and within hours, two of its agents, a Mr John Steed and a Mrs Emma Peel sat in the Police Station drinking steaming mugs of tea with the shepherd. The shepherd's name was John MacDonald, know as Jack. He was tall and broad, he was indeed a very big Jack MacDonald. In essence, Jack told of strange lights appearing and disappearing in Dragonhead. He could see them as he tended his flocks in the hills above the town.
"How long have these lights been appearing?" asked Mrs Peel over her tea mug.
"Since bath night – Friday." Responded the shepherd, picking his teeth for that piece of herring stuck there since breakfast.
"Did you not think to tell anyone?" Asked Steed incredulously.
"Nah. City folk and city ways." He sniffed. "I only came to say my Doug had gone missing."
"Your Doug?" Mrs Peel was horrified. "How old is he?" Jack shrugged.
"Six or seven. Mebbe."
"And where did you see him last?"
"Well, " The old shepherd rubbed his chin, his hand rasping on his grey stubble "we spent the yesterday on the big pasture on the side of Glorfindel, clipping a few ewes and casting an ee o'er the new lambs, and we got home just after dark. I read the Bible for mebbe an oor and when I had just finished - 'He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.' Isaiah chapter 40 verse 11. Do you ken you Bible lassie? "
"Not as well as you, Mr MacDonald. Why did your Doug not go to school?"
"And why would my Doug go to the schoolhouse?" Straggy eyebrows drew down over piercing blue eyes.
"To learn Mr MacDonald."
"Ma Doug kens all he needs to to work wi me. To come and go up. To follow my whistles."
Steed chuckled.
"I think, Mrs Peel, that we have breakdown in communications. Whereas you have interpreted Doug to be a child Douglas, that you are naturally horrified to think has been used as some sort of Dickensian child labour, Mr MacDonald is narrating the disappearance of his faithful canine."
"Aye, "said MacDonald, "ma dug."
An hour later, Steed and Mrs Peel stood by an equestrian statue at the edge of Dragonhead.
"What did you make of MacDonald?" Asked Steed. Mrs Peel delicately took a bite out of apple, and chewed for a moment before answering.
"He didn't really have a lot to tell. Lights appearing and disappearing ... what did you make of the noises?"
Steed gazed through the trees at the quiet town. No lights burned, nothing moved.
"Very odd. Screams and moans for about an hour, and then nothing since." He looked at this watch, then scanned the road. Where is Major Lethbridge Stewart? He's supposed to be here by now."
"Well known for his strong arm and his lusty ways apparently ..." said Mrs Peel.
"The Major? He seems such a mild mannered chap."
"No, Guy de Guy – the chap on the bronze horse." Steed looked round to see Mrs Peel reading the inscription on the base of the statue.
"Ah. Do you think he wore a traffic cone in life?" he asked pointing at the addition with his umbrella.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50666043947_fed09636d6_c.jpg)Guy de Guy and his impromptu headgear
"Oh no, he was a quite sombre figure" piped in a third voice. "He bore the head of a dragon on his shield, and so probably gave his name to the town." A curly head in a broad hat appeared from behind the statue.
The man advanced on the agents, a small paper bag proffered.
"Would you like a jellybaby?" He smiled broadly. Almost unconsciously, Mrs Peel took one.
"And you are?" Asked Steed, solicitously.
"Oh, I'm the Doctor." Responded the other breezily. He smiled again.
"Are you local?" Asked Mrs Peel.
"Oh no, I'm from quite a way away. Must visiting for a short time."
"Ah. Well Doctor ...?" Began Steed, but the curly headed man just smiled broadly, and made no attempt to answer the implied question.
"Do you know what's happened to the people?" Asked Mrs Peel.
"Oh no, but the lights are fascinating, aren't they?"
"Have you seen them?" Snapped Steed. The Doctor apparently took no offence, but ruminated a while.
"Not directly, but I thought I should come and see for myself. Shall we?" He indicated the town.
Steed and Mrs Peel followed the Doctor's gaze. A red light had appeared on the road the other side of the trees. It flickered and glowed, it seemed to dance above the road.
"Fascinating." Said the Doctor. He took a tool from his pocket and began to scan the light with it. The light had no apparent source, and seemed not to cast shadows. It was a most unnatural light. Suddenly the red light seemed to coalesce into a solid red cone, then with a sigh it disappeared.
Where the light had been, there now stood an ominous green shape.
"Is that ...?" breathed Mrs Peel.
"It's a tank ... a Russian tank." Confirmed Steed.
"Do you think there is someone in it?" As if in answer, the turret of the tank began to turn, as is sniffing it's surrounding.
"How's your Russian, Mrs Peel?"
"Neplokho."
The Doctor was staring at the tool he had used to scan the red light.
"Oh!" He gave a short laugh. "That explains it."
"Explains what?" chorused Steed and Mrs Peel. The Doctor looked up as if he had just noticed the agents.
"It's a hyper dimension conduit, probably just a bit misaligned." He smiled broadly at their blank stares. "You know those pneumatic tubes that they have in offices for whizzing messages all over the place? You pop a capsule in and it gets sucked up to a central point where some kind person pops it into another tube and so it lands on your desk? Well, think of one of those but on a cosmic scale, and not really a tube, and not really pneumatic." He smiled again.
"Are you saying ... Doctor, that someone just popped a Soviet tank into a pneumatic tube?" Said Steed slowly.
"That isn't pneumatic, and isn't a tube. Yes." The Doctor nodded.
"Is it the Russians?" The Doctor barked a little laugh.
"Well beyond them. Possibly the Judoon ... though they don't really like red, or the Krotons ... hello, we're off." Sure enough the tank had begun to move slowly down the road towards David Lloyd George Block, the turret swinging back and forth. Steed, Mrs Peel and the Doctor set off in cautious pursuit.
The tank stopped some distance from Dave, apparently confused by the road ending. The turret turned rapidly and the trio found themselves in the middle of the street staring down the barrel of what seemed to be a very large gun. For a long moment the tableau was frozen. The tank seemingly studying the followers, and the followers mesmerised by the implicit threat.
"Be prepared to run." Suggested the Doctor. "Any time now." As he spoke, a red light appeared between the tank and the people. It danced and bobbled briefly, then solidified into a red cone.
"Run!" Shouted the Doctor, and following his own advice, ran for cover. With a sigh that was more like a moan, the red light disappeared. In it's place was an American helicopter – a Huey, flying low and fast – too low and too fast. The pilot, if he was able to control the helicopter, was not quick enough and the Huey smashed into the David Lloyd George block and exploded.
The Russian tank reacted swiftly, it turned on its tracks and moved back the way it had come, the turret machine gun lashing the sides of the street.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50665964626_6db6e68c93_c.jpg)The Russian tank moves away from the crashed Huey
In the Undie Cover factory, the people of Dragonhead heard. They stirred from their torpor, they struggled to their feet and moved painfully towards the door. Molly Nary was there, and AK Su, and Eth Orial, and August Cameron ffoukes de Vere Marcher, (of the West Marchers) and Mrs Winstone's son Ray. Their sightless eyes were unblinking, just white orbs in their grey faces, their clothes torn, showing bloodless wounds and in some cases exposing bone. They shuffled towards the explosion. They had no leader, no plan, just a need, an awful hunger that drove them, staggering, limping or crawling in a ferocious desperation to feed.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50666041787_db40d7cea4_c.jpg)The undead of Dragonhead come on ...
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50665218373_3efdf2b01a_c.jpg)... and on ...
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50665218213_a7a85506b5_c.jpg)... and on (OK, perhaps I overdid the zombies.)
Maybe I should explain.
Sometimes I buy stuff from Pendraken with no real plan as to what to do with them. I buy them because I think they will be fun to paint. Or I have a notion that I may do something with them ... or sometimes I don't even remember buying them. I even have some stuff that isn't Pendraken and I have no idea how they arrived in my lead mountain.
Anyway, I decided that during lockdown I would try and clear a bit of my aforesaid lead mountain, and probably because I live alone and didn't get out much before I had the excuse of the virus. I found some stuff I had started many years ago and so Dragonhead was (re)born.
The mechanics of the game are that each move I will randomly generate a location in the town. This will be the site of an event. Mostly they will deposit something into the town, but sometimes they will suck up whatever they land near.
What can they deposit in poor old Dragonhead? Anything in my collection.
1. Clip clop, swish swish (to 1500)
2. Clip clop, bang bang (1500 to 1914)
3. Brrm Brrm, bang bang (1914 to date)
4. Zoom Zoom, zap zap (sci fi)
5. Fantasy.
6. Suck it up, Buttercup
So the event could be a unit of hoplites, Robert the Bruce, a Bf109, laser tank, or a dragon.
Needless to say, this presents some interesting scenarios. Determining friend or foe is one issue to be resolved. The T62 at loose in Pendraken may turn out to be an ally to Major Lethbridge Stewart ... or not. Certainly, letting the zombies loose adds a common enemy for all living humans. Do you think centaurs can become zombies?
Obviously, the rules (Nobby's Omnirules) are quick and dirty. If that unit of space marines comes on the table, I have to determine their stats before deployment.
I've added in some characters from 1960s popular culture. Steed and Mrs Peel from the Avengers (the proper British one, not the inferior US variant), and Tom Baker's Dr Who are already on the table. I have Modesty Blaze and Bond, James Bond (Sean Connery of course, none of the poor imitations) ready to go if needed.
Very silly but great fun.
Coming next ... The British Army Arrive. Major Lethbridge Stewart with his troops arrive in a convoy of Land Rovers.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50665217813_662ed6bb57_c.jpg)Lethbridge Stewart takes charge and interrogates the civilians
Love it! It may be silly as you say, but it certainly looks like fun :).
Excellent start, interested to see how they progress. And one can never overdo the zombies so no fear there...
Love it all!
Where did the Doctor come from?
I know where the Soviet tanks came from... ;)
Nice stuff
Quote from: mad lemmey on 30 November 2020, 10:21:54 PM
Love it all!
Where did the Doctor come from?
The Doctor was last seen manning a Napoleon in the Army of the Confederacy.
Thanks chaps.
Quote from: fsn on 30 November 2020, 07:42:12 PM
The town's name is Dragonhead (pronounced "draaaagunheeed".)
Yeah, that's not how British (actually usually English) naming conventions work.
It'll be more along the lines of "It may be spelt "D r a g o n h e a d", but it's pronounced "Diddlysquat"" (with an unspoken (usually . . .) "Don't you know anything you fearful oik!" tacked on the end)
Other than, good fun :-bd :-bd :-bd
Excellent, Nobby !! :-bd :-bd :-bd
(Can I just use this opportunity to advertise the fact that the pet shop has a special offer on Mongolian attack squirrels this week ?)
Cheers - Phil. :)
Importing dangerous wild life Phil, would ha tort dat the labs, collie, 'orses and particularly sheep would be nough ! :o
The collie died on the 'operating table'....A year or more now, Ian. :(
On of the labs is going to cost another hundred quid tomorrow. =)
Hey Ho !
Phil
Quote from: Techno II on 01 December 2020, 12:17:35 PM
The collie died on the 'operating table'....A year or more now, Ian. :(
Phil
Whoops - Sorry =((
Once again we find ourselves exposed to the insane abyss that is Nobby's mind. #-o :P
(but, Christmas isn't Xmas without it!) :D
The idea of clip, clop, bang, bangs meeting up with zoom, zoom, zap, zap sounds like fun!* ;D
* Wait a minute, haven't they already done that with Cowboys vs. Aliens? :-\
Quote from: ianrs54 on 01 December 2020, 01:12:27 PM
Whoops - Sorry =((
Don't worry, chum. :)
Von and I have been through this SO many times with all the animals we've been 'Mum & Dad' to.
Each one of them have been very precious..in their own way. But we can both accept that it's the natural order of things.
Cheers - Phil
Have missed the Yule epics and celebrate their return now made three dimensional (or four or five)! The cameo is much appreciated particularly with the typical inner-new town decoration, although a barber’s basin would have served ;) . It is Love’s Labour Lost made more stylish and intelligible (and even transcendent with the major appearance of Emma Peel). The image of The Zombie Apocalypse will never again be the same.
I rigidly and unblinkingly await act II.
Good stuff fsn!
It looks suitably bonkers! I'm looking forward to Phlanx (Greek) vs T-62
Like d_Guy I'm noticing hints of the Yule epics of previous years.
Marvellous
Just hope he doesn't have any 10mm Daleks......
Don't think there any 10mm Dalecks (HINT PHIL - even you could get them right) - but the Irregular "Attack Robots" in 6mm would pass
Quote from: ianrs54 on 02 December 2020, 09:13:00 AM
. . . but the Irregular "Attack Robots" in 6mm would pass
Oooh, I've got some of those, somewhere.
(Quick rummage in various boxes)
Ha, ha! Found them. They're only 7mm tall, so do look very small up against a Pendraken figure.
"Ha, ha! Found them. They're only 7mm tall, so do look very small up against a Pendraken figure."
Dwarf mutant zombie Daleks of course. Open the lid of the chief Dalek and out pops an irate Gimli. You know, because, all genres matter....
Quote from: d_Guy on 01 December 2020, 04:16:19 PM
The cameo is much appreciated particularly with the typical inner-new town decoration, although a barber's basin would have served ;)
Again, I cannot claim any originality. There is a statue of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington in Glasgow, that perpetually sports a cone. It is little known that the Glaswegians acquired the practice from their cousins in Dragonhead.
Quote from: ianrs54 on 02 December 2020, 09:13:00 AM
Don't think there any 10mm Dalecks (HINT PHIL - even you could get them right)
They'd be sods to cast......and Auntie might get all cross with Leon. ;)
Cheers - Phil :)
Quote from: Techno II on 02 December 2020, 08:12:40 PM
and Auntie might get all cross with Leon. ;)
Yes, they tend to be very protective over that IP
Quote from: fsn on 30 November 2020, 07:42:12 PM
The town is now dominated by two tower blocks – named after local heroes the David Lloyd George Block and the Leon Trotsky Building
Well there's where to head if the Daleks do turn up FSN......from watching various 60's/70's/80's British TV shows it appears that the lifts in most tower blocks are unrelable at best, so the Daleks would have to take the stairs, a major problem, at least for the Daleks in the early Dr Who days in the 60's ;D
https://punch.photoshelter.com/image/I0000ZvleumhOmDo
Dragonhead is a great gaming idea, look forward to more episodes :-bd
Trick is not to call them "Dalecks"
Quote from: ianrs54 on 02 December 2020, 09:13:00 AM
Don't think there any 10mm Dalecks (HINT PHIL - even you could get them right) - but the Irregular "Attack Robots" in 6mm would pass
Leon cast up some 10mm Daleks around 5 years ago (as well as Cybermen and Time Lords) they were a private enterprise (I'm sure I still have some somewhere).
The gentleman who sculpted them has a Dr Who 10mm page (Dr Who 10mm east tiger wargames)
also has some time wars rules.
Regards
Sean
Quote from: Techno II on 02 December 2020, 08:12:40 PM
......and Auntie might get all cross with Leon. ;)
Quote from: fred. on 02 December 2020, 09:57:48 PM
Yes, they tend to be very protective over that IP
So are 20th Century Fox, but I see alien facehuggers & creatures already in the sci-fi range. And an APC that looks very familiar . . .
Think it's Terry Nation (or his estate) that owns the Dalek IP.
Quote from: sean66 on 03 December 2020, 11:37:03 AM
Leon cast up some 10mm Daleks around 5 years ago (as well as Cybermen and Time Lords) they were a private enterprise (I'm sure I still have some somewhere).
The gentleman who sculpted them has a Dr Who 10mm page (Dr Who 10mm east tiger wargames)
also has some time wars rules.
Regards
Sean
I
think it was vulpine who did those. :-\
Cheers - Phil
Quote from: Techno II on 04 December 2020, 06:48:14 AM
I think it was vulpine who did those. :-
Cheers - Phil
Techno I didn't want to name names 8)
Regards
Sean
Ahem.
http://www.pendrakenforum.co.uk/index.php/topic,6563.0.html (http://www.pendrakenforum.co.uk/index.php/topic,6563.0.html)
Given the age of those it's a bit much to recall witrh my addeled and pickled brain :'(
Quote from: sean66 on 03 December 2020, 11:37:03 AM
Leon cast up some 10mm Daleks around 5 years ago (as well as Cybermen and Time Lords) they were a private enterprise (I'm sure I still have some somewhere).
We did, as it was purely a personal project at the time. When he wanted to start selling them we passed over the moulds and stepped away from the project as we didn't want to get ourselves into any trouble. The Doctor Who miniatures license sits with Warlord and when they first acquired it there were a lot of 'Stop selling your stuff' emails sent out to any other companies producing 'Not Dr Who' type products.
We did, as it was purely a personal project at the time. When he wanted to start selling them we passed over the moulds and stepped away from the project as we didn't want to get ourselves into any trouble. The Doctor Who miniatures license sits with Warlord and when they first acquired it there were a lot of 'Stop selling your stuff' emails sent out to any other companies producing 'Not Dr Who' type products.
if warlord has the licence fro Dr Who products how come black tree designs still sell Dr who figures and Daleks in 28mm?
Quote from: Nirnman on 05 December 2020, 09:32:32 AM
if warlord has the licence fro Dr Who products how come black tree designs still sell Dr who figures and Daleks in 28mm?
I can't remember the exact details but I've got vague memories that there was a particular company who had acquired a separate license in the 90's when Who was fairly dormant. That license was still valid so they were able to continue production. I've got Harlequin in my head though, rather than Black Tree, but that would explain why BT's ranges only go up to the 8th Doctor.
Leon,
you're right the Harlequin (now Black Tree) license predates Warlords so the figures are legit (in some cases awful sculpts).
Best wishes,
Martin
Quote from: Smoking gun on 07 December 2020, 06:04:57 PM
..you're right the Harlequin (now Black Tree) license predates Warlords so the figures are legit (in some cases awful sculpts).
That's good, at least my memory cells are kinda working!
Cracking stuff :)
I shall be in my bunk thinking of Mrs. Peel.
(Sorry. Will post some photos soon.)
Gentlemen. Before I resume my narrative of the goings-on at Dragonhead, perhaps I should give you a few more examples of how the world described differs from ours.
In 1963, the FBI arrested Lee Harvey Oswald in Dallas. Oswald squealed and Jackie Kennedy was later arrested for engaging a hitman to take out her philandering husband. Being a devout Catholic, Kennedy could not divorce Jackie, but swept to a landslide victory in the 1964 election, with Marilyn Monroe as his running mate. Unusually VP Monroe moved in to the White House to ensure a close working relationship with President Kennedy.
Meanwhile, Professor J W Whittmer of St Andrews University develops a fusion power cell that is powered by oranges. In a period of two years, the bottom falls out of the oil industry. Ironically, Israel becomes one of the richest countries in the world.
We left our trio of protagonists - Mr Steed and Mrs Peel from the Ministry and the Doctor from... behind the statue diving for cover as a T62 that had mysteriously appeared started shooting up the town.
As the tank disappeared around a corner, Steed saw with some relief a column of army Land Rovers draw up. Major Lethbridge Stewart dismounted gracefully and greeted the trio cordially.
"Ah! You made it here before us." he observed – a keen intellect the Major. "Find anything?"
"Well, there's a Russian tank just gone into the town." Remarked Steed.
"Good grief!" Ejaculated the officer. He motioned for his radio operator. "There are some tanks not too far from here. I'll soon have them here to deal with the blighter." He looked up, an annoyed frown on his face. "Corporal, what's that noise?"
"Civvies Sir. Coming towards us!"
"Take your section and get them off the street!" The Major looked at the Doctor. "Who the Devil are you?"
"I'm the Doctor. Jelly baby?" The Doctor proffered his paper bag. Lethbridge Stewart waved the proffered confectionery away with an immaculate gloved hand and began giving orders down the radio handset.
Steed laid a hand on Mrs Peel's arm.
"I'm not sure that Russian tank is necessarily an enemy. Look it from their point of view. If the Doctor is right, then they have just been dumped here unwillingly. Next thing you know, an American helicopter comes lolloping overhead and there's a big explosion. They're probably confused and frightened."
"And in charge of a very big gun." Added Mrs Peel, chewing reflectively on a jelly baby.
"Indeed. " Steed took off his bowler and daintily dusted away some specks of debris. "But I think I will go and find it. See if I can talk the crew into surrendering ... or at least not shooting up anything else."
"I'm coming too." Mrs Peel's delicate chin jutted defiantly, and Steed knew there was no arguing with her.
Their going would have been unnoticed anyway, but the Corporal and his section had come up to the approaching townspeople. The smoke from the burning Huey had obscured the soldiers view, but as they cleared the smoke they ran straight into the first wave of the undead. Stunned by the sight of the shambling creatures at first, the corporal did not give the order to fire before AK Su had sunk her broken teeth into his throat and began to suck luxuriously on the blood.
The rest of the section opened fire. A few of the undead went down, but they were replaced by seemingly numberless others. Within seconds, the entire section were down. A minute more and four of them twitched, and rose and joined the mass.
Steed and Mrs Peel had crossed the road and were carefully making their way towards the council offices. Suddenly Steed stopped by the pet shop owned by Mr & Mrs Lewis.* He stared intently at a poster in the pet shop window. He pointed his umbrella at the picture.
"Do you see that Mrs Peel?" The slim woman, who had more sex appeal than all the Kardashians dusted with icing sugar, dressed in black velvet and laid end to end on satin sheets, examined the poster.
"Rare Chinese cuddle hamsters" she read. She turned a puzzled brow to her colleague. "What's so unusual about that?"
"Do you remember that report last month – the one about the research lab in Wuhai?" Steed paced excitedly. "It said that the Chinese were trying to produce a virus that would kill off livestock."
"I remember" she said calmly. "The report said they hadn't found a suitable transmission method."
"Ah but they did. " Steed snapped. "they found that rodents were immune – perfect carriers." He pointed his umbrella at the picture. "What if the Chinese put their virus in some rodents which end up here, in Dragonhead ... as a test? It would just take one to escape and the virus is in the wild."
"But ... when is it true about what happens if it infects humans?" Asked Mrs Peel. The crackle of gunfire as the Corporal's section died gave an eerie answer.
"These aren't Chinese cuddle hamsters, they're Mongolian attack squirrels." Steed finished.
"Steed!" Mrs Peel's warning came too late.
Every town has its outcast. For Dragonhead, it was Liam May. He had been abandoned by his parents as a teenager – or maybe he had run away, but he had arrived in Dragonhead during the period of expansion, making a living stealing from the building sites or, if forced to, doing odd jobs. Small and skinny to the point of emaciation, Liam had never had enough to eat. The small amounts of money he got from begging or petty theft were spent on drink - or drugs if he could get them - rather than food. He was a creature of the shadows, sleeping in alleys during the day and only emerging at night. He couldn't remember not being hungry, but now the hunger seems to gnaw at his very innards. He was desperate to eat, to tear warm flesh with his teeth and his hands and to feast on organs from a still spasming body. The thing that had once been the mad Liam May almost fell upon Steed, talons flailing and jaw snapping. Steed fell beneath the undead, hand reaching for his revolver. He felt the pain of the teeth in his neck, and then no more.
Mrs Peel saw only the fountain of blood, and heard only the grunts of mad Liam May as he began to consume Steed's flesh. Without taking her eyes off the awful sight, Mrs Peel drew the Browning Hi-Power and put two careful shots into mad Liam May's head. She looked down at the corpse of her long time partner and waited. Sure enough, the torn body began to quiver as afterlife came to it.
"Sorry Steed." She said, and put two shots into Steed's brain.
(https://ca-times.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/aecde0f/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2048x1598+0+0/resize/840x655!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcalifornia-times-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fef%2Fc0%2F487d84ae6d88bfd924bfc98eda46%2Fla-so-b-avengers-jpg-20150625)Mrs Peel and the late Mr Steed
By the time Mrs Peel made it back to Major Lethbridge Stewart, she saw his force had been strengthened by three Centurion tanks.*** However, the Major seemed not to be best pleased. The object of his displeasure, a young Lieutenant wearing the tankers black beret , stood uncertainly at attention.
"You mean you have three very clean and tidy tanks, but not a single armour piercing round between you?" Asked Lethbridge Stewart acidly.
"Yessir. Nobody said we needed to take on ammunition."
"Did they tell you there was a T62 on the loose?"
"Yessir." The Lieutenant tried an embarrassed grin. "But that was a joke, surely?" The grin slid off his face as the Major remained icily impassive. A tank sergeant offered that he had a box of Besa ammunition. The Lieutenant turned on him angrily.
"Consider yourself on a charge for having unauthorised ammunition!"
This sorry spotlight on the mindset of the British army was interrupted by the arrival of a fourth Centurion. Unlike the others, this was a slightly disreputable machine, its mud splashed dark green and black camouflage contrasting to the pristine deep bronze green of its sisters.
As it jerked to a stop, the commander jumped from the hull. He was a grizzled warrant officer, greying at the temples. He flung a smart salute to the Major.
"Sorry I'm late sir. Stopped off to pick up a half dozen APDS and a couple of boxes of mg ammo." If looks could kill, the Lieutenant's glare would have laid the WO low.
"Excellent!" Beamed the Major. "There is a T62 somewhere in this town and we need you to hunt it. These others" he idly indicated the Lieutenant's troop "will support you." A couple of sharp salutes, and the tank men were mounted, engines roaring as the Centurions moved off.
Captain Adam Steele marched cheerfully behind the flag his regiment had just received. It was a beautiful day in early July 1861, and the column of grey clad men were singing lustily. With this kind of spirit the Yankees would be defeated in one battle, maybe a second to finish them off and then he would have his boots under a bed ion a plush Washington hotel. The red light was on them for what seemed like no time at all. One moment it was bright Virginia sunshine, then the red light and then as quickly the red evaporated and Steel and maybe twenty of his men were ... some place else. The light was ... different, less clear and the smell of the pitch pine trees had been replaced by ... something dirty. Voices were raised in prayer and lamentation someone called out that they had died and the Devil had taken them straight to Hell.
Steele's Sergeant, a twenty year old storekeeper who gained his stripes because of his literacy rather than any military prowess, gasped the Lieutenant's arm desperately.
"What happened?" The edge of panic was plain in the man's voice. Steel roughly pushed the sergeant's hand away.
"I have no idea. Get a grip of your fortitude Sergeant." he hissed. Looking around, he saw a building surrounded by a wall. "get the men in there – it looks like a school house." In short order, the Confederates were parading on the playground of St Catherine's School.
"Can't be Hell, boys" Steel spoke with more certainty than he felt, "this place is a school and dedicated to a saint. No saints in Hell."
"Nor schools neither" someone called from the ranks. It was a poor joke but it brought a reluctant laugh from the men.
"We'll set up a camp here. Then send out some scouts to find out what is going on". The routine of setting up a camp brought a degree of calm, and with they settled in to await their fate.
"Captain!" One of the sentries called steel over. "There's a noise."
"What kind of noise?" Asked Steel testily.
"I dunno. Sort of a clanking and a hammering." Steel and the man peered over the wall. Steel could her the noise now. It reminded him of ironworks or a locomotive ...
"There!" The sentry pointed, and Steele spotted the movement. It was some kind of wagon, coming towards them. It was green and looked as big as a barn. It looked as if there was some kind of cannon stuck on the top. By now a dozen curious men lined the wall, rifles pointed at the approaching vehicle.
The wagon stopped, and the cannon moved slowly back and forth. A shot went out from the Confederates, followed by an uneven panicky fusillade.
"Stop that shooting." Yelled Steele. "You might annoy it" he thought to himself. The cannon paused, pointed straight at Steele. A few of his men slipped off to hopefully safer locations. For long seconds Steel started down the barrel of the cannon, then, with a roar of grey smoke, the waggon backed slowly away.
"Captain!" someone called from the other wall. "Folk coming, plenty of 'em. Moving slowly."
"At last" thought Steele. "Perhaps now we can get some answers."
*What of the zoophilist couple? The day before, Mr Lewis had received a phone call from a nearby farm. The farmer had explained that his cat had kittened, and if the Lewis's didn't want the litter, they would be sent to join that navy.** The kindly Mr Lewis had gathered up his van key and his wife and set off immediately. "I'm sure we turn left here." Asserted Mr Lewis confidently. Rest assured the Lewis's are poring over a map at a bed and breakfast near Derby. They will come to no harm, but neither will they appear further in this narrative.
**Put in a sack with a brick and thrown into a loch.
*** Come on chaps, you must have known that was going to happen.
A further point of explanation.
in keeping with the chaotic rules for this nonsense, every time a zombie unit is destroyed, it reappears somewhere else on the table. This mimics the extraordinary ability of zombies to be everywhere, and that anyone defeated by a zombie unit is likely to join their ranks.
The other mechanism of this game is that random units of random things get dropped onto the table.
This means that this game has no end. The zombies will never be killed off, and even if they are, there is a ready supply of fresh meat as the red ball drops off unsuspecting combatants.
When I get bored, I think that in true 1960's style there may have to be a Canberra bomber with an atomic bomb.
I may restage Steels Siege for photographic purposes, but joining the fun will be some zoom, zoom, zap, zap.
Yay! Great narrative, thank you.
A mention too! ;D
Excellent, Nobby. ;D
My eyes don't seem to be working. I'm hornswoggled if I can find the double asterisk in the narrative. :-\ (It is early, though.)
Cheers - Phil
Thank you, chaps.
*The double asterisk is in the footnote marked with a single asterisk.
;D
Quote from: fsn on 14 December 2020, 07:40:29 AM
*The double asterisk is in the footnote marked with a single asterisk.
Huzzah !! .....Got it, now !
Cheers - Phil :)
;D
.. and Steed's a zombie! :o
.... didn't think his acting was that wooden .....
Quote from: Westmarcher on 14 December 2020, 10:02:07 AM
;D
.. and Steed's a zombie! :o
.... didn't think his acting was that wooden .....
who cared about steeds acting :o I was too busy watching other people ;D
and Steed isn't a Zombie the Beautiful Mrs Peel blew his brains out.
regards
Sean
Quote from: fsn on 13 December 2020, 09:56:56 PM
in keeping with the chaotic rules for this nonsense, every time a zombie unit is destroyed, it reappears somewhere else on the table. This mimics the extraordinary ability of zombies to be everywhere, and that anyone defeated by a zombie unit is likely to join their ranks.
"You can't kill what's already dead!" :)
Photos as promised
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50720044982_e899604629_c.jpg)Steed and Mrs Peel discuss Mongolian Attack Squirrels as mad Liam May edges closer
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50719961326_c8fccf96d9_c.jpg)Good old Virginia sharpshooting drives away the green wagon.
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50719961951_72f010d645_c.jpg)"Captain! Folk coming, plenty of 'em. Moving slowly." (https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50719224768_fd0acf4a42_c.jpg)
(https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50720045827_e4aa3d723f_c.jpg)The Centurions set out to hunt the T62. The lead pair is just passing the Fine Fare supermarket and the Khyber Pass Indian restaurant.
Quote from: fsn on 14 December 2020, 05:51:14 PM
. . . The lead pair is just passing the Fine Fare supermarket . . .
Blimey. Fine Fare. That takes me back.
Good show
Look ace
Steed may be a zombie.....But I can't find my way out of the one-way system in Derby ! :'(
(I do like my pet shop ! :))
Great stuff, Nobby !! :-bd
Cheers - Phil