FSN Goes to the Pantdraken

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

 

Well played sir, well played!

(Did anyone understand a word of that?)

[d_Guy]

Scene 3: PO

"...and as wide as a Walmart aisle..."

HAR!! snort <giggle!> and dang true that!

But as we keep explaining, poor fellow, d_Mary was the ward nurse BEFORE the lobotomy - she went home days ago.

[Westmarcher]

Grippingbeast!   

[Techno]

 

Cheers - Phil

[Orcs]

Scene 3: PO

Techno, hurrying in at a great pace. He was wearing a gold leotard the wrong way round to expose his navel and nipples,

NO!! NO !! NO!!  I do not want this image in my mind 

[Sandinista]

NO!! NO !! NO!!  I do not want this image in my mind 

Made me think of Nik Turner in his Hawkwind days

Cheers
Ian

[Tawa]

NO!! NO !! NO!!  I do not want this image in my mind 

If we have to suffer, then so do you...... 

[fsn]

Scene 4: What it Really Is

FSN and Bert had run for what FSN considered to be a long distance. Bert too was disconcerted, as the ash had fallen off one of his fags and he'd been hoping to get that one right down to the filter without losing any ash at all.

They ducked under another of Mac's Missiles and were confronted by a small, run down building. It was red brick, two stories and many lighted windows. Bert sniffed.

"Stale beer. Chips. Disappointment. Puke. - It's a pub!" He trotted off towards the welcoming bar. FSN chose a more circumspect approach, partly because of a natural animal caution, and partly because the stitch in his side was giving him gyp, and his vision had not yet returned to normal. As the pink haze receded, he saw that Bert's olfactory diagnosis had been correct. From an unvarnished wooden post hung a gaudy sign. It depicted a pair of heavily stylised forearms – one whose hand was in the act of releasing large quantities of bank notes, the other groping towards an equally large quantity of small metallic figures.

"The Pendraken Arms!" (Mystic P) Exclaimed FSN, who was wary of ejaculating at this late stage of the game. This revelation quickened his pace and he skilfully avoided the tripwires, bear traps and punji pits that discouraged the less that fervent seeker of a good pint, a stale sandwich and topical banter.

He skidded into the bar at the precise time that Bert should have taken to have ordered, been served and most importantly paid for two pints, and perhaps a bag of salt and vinegar crisps. Alas! Bert stood forlornly surveying the hostelry. Chairs were placed on tables. The lights behind the bar were off, and most telling off all, the pumps were covered in cloths.

"Perry me! It's closed!" Said Bert in a more than disappointed tone.

"Heroics and Ros! It's enough to make anyone say the 'P' word!" Returned FSN, suffering the twin blows of not getting a pint and not getting Bert to pay for it.

"Oh hello!" Called a friendly voice. Bert and FSN could only stare as three short figures appeared as if from nowhere. The tiny trio grinned equally stupid grins, and stood in equally odd positions, and wore equally odd costumes of red caps, blue chef's tunics, yellow and green striped trousers and purple clogs.

"Renaissance fans, I'll be bound." Whispered FSN from the side of his mouth.

"Well it ain't Lemmey. He's out looking for a good time." He peered closely at the heavily made up faces in front of him.

"Orcs? Is that you?" One of the trio nodded enthusiastically, a hitherto unseen bell on his cap setting a merry tinkle. Bert examined the other two.   

"Sandy! Sandy Nista! And let me see, well if ain't little Tawa! Kallistra, I ain't see you two since ... well, erm ..." The trip waited patiently for a denouement to the sentence, fixed grins fixed in place.

"Is the bar open?" Cut in FSN, less from a desire to aid his companion and more from a desire to get a pint, even if he had to pay for it himself.

"Not yet," said Orcs, grinning just a little bit wider.
"We have to" added Sandy
"redecorate first." Finished Tawa.

FSN felt a cold shiver go down his spine, pause at the crack of his backside then retrace it's steps back to his neck where it knocked at the skull as it had important information to impart. He looked round. The walls had been stripped of any art work, decoration or the heads of patrons who didn't have sufficient to cover the cost of the comestibles they consumed. A long plain table had been set up on which stood rolls of wallpaper, and dotted around the place were buckets, wide enough to put your foot in, filled with a cold and gungy looking goo.

" Magister Militum!" he breathed. "Bert, we have to get out of here." His eyes darted around the rooms, taking in step ladders, large brushes (even bigger than an 4) and planks of wood.

"Why? We just have to help these guys decorate the bar and then we'll probably be given a few jars as a reward." FSN clutched at Bert's arm, swung to face him and said slowly but urgently.

"Bert. We are in a Games Workshop of a mess. We are stuck in a pantdraken bar which needs redecorating, with three grinning idiots whose clothes are designed to show every spot of wallpaper paste and paint that drop, spatter or splash on them." Bert looked round, his smile slowly draining from his face.

"Kallistra!" But it was too late. The doors had been locked. They were trapped.

"Not the kind of lock in I like." Said Bert fatalistically.

"Before we" started Orcs
"decorate, we" added Sandy
"have to ..." Tawa was acutely and uncomfortably aware that he had said the same as the previous two, but  there was still sentence unsaid. He tried to remedy the situation.

"Before we decorate," began Tawa
"decide the rules" added Sandy.
"we have to." Finished Orcs uncertainly.

"Proud Yoda would be" commented FSN, in his best Star Wars voice. The trio went into a huddle, then rearranged themselves before trying again.

"Before we decorate," started Sandy
"we have to" chipped in Tawa
"decide the rules." Finished Orcs.

"No biting, gouging or getting paint or paste on FSN?" offered FSN hopefully.

"Indeed not!" Piped up Sandy.
"Rules for" Continued Tawa.
"Biblical warfare." Completed Orcs.

"Why don't you tell us about it?" Asked Bert, an evil glint in his eyes, or perhaps a bit of paint was coming loose. The trio nodded, then conferred in a huddle before emerging to sing the following. For the avoidance of doubt they did sing one line each, but it would be terribly tedious for everyone to indicate who sang which line, so just use your imagination, will you?

     "Well we got no choice
     Between PIAT and Boyes
     Loosin' all your poise
     'Cause you got new toys
     Though you went to Salute you
     Can't paint a flag
     Lemmey would help
     But he's wearing drag!

     Rules are out for Sumer
     Rules are out forever
     Rules been blown to pieces

     No more bases
     No more charts
     No more umpires stoppin' starts!

     Well we got no class
     And we got no principes
     And we got no hastati
     We can't even think of a word that rhymes

     Rules are out for Sumer
     Rules are out forever
     Rules been blown to pieces."

"Have you considered adapting the Warband rules?" Asked FSN as the trio reached the end of their song. The diminutive trio clapped their hand and laughed and jumped about and hissed and wheezed and finally came to a halt.

"Good" from Orcs
"Idea" added Sandy
"Pal." Finished Tawa, his tiny chest still heaving with the effort of both the song and the celebration.

"Right, let's get this bar decorated, and then have a couple of pints ..." Suggested Bert, clapping his hands together in a manly manner.

"Then we" Sandy
"must go" Tawa
"to the ..." Orcs. His little face furrowed as he realised that something had gone wrong.

"Wedding?" Added FSN helpfully. The diddy decorators nodded fervently and their little bells tinkled down their backs.

Two hours later, Bert and FSN stepped from the Pendraken Arms (Mystic P) much refreshed.

"That wasn't too bad." Said FSN.

"Indeed not. Those little chaps were most efficient. I think Lady Lemmey will be very happy with that wallpaper. What was it? Spiderman?" FSN nodded.

"And clean too. Not a drop of paint spilled! Nice work on the cutting out on those window frames." FSN made to put a friendly arm around Bert's shoulder, partly because a feeling of camaraderie, partly because of the three pints of Old Painter's he'd consumed. Only Bert knew that FSN had been supping pure turpentine, but he moved away from the proffered arm.

"What did you say Bert?"

"I was" said Bert, wondering if he lighted a cigarette FSN would catch fire, then philosophically he didn't give an Old Glory and lit up. "I was thinking about the time when I was stationed with this bloke who made figures. I watched him one day sculpt a little dog out of dried putty. Just hacked away at it with a craft knife until it looked like this street dog, you could see every muscle under the coat, head up, teeth bared. I reckon you could even see the glint in the dog's eye, you could almost tell its story from that one sculpt. All in 10 mil too. Best workmanship I've seen – ever."

"Really?" Asked FSN, who hadn't worked it out yet.

"Really. Hewn cur."




"And where", I hear you ask, "is Techno?" Alas, poor Techno, he had pursued FSN and Bert to the Pendraken Arms (Mystic P) and had seen them enjoying the merry miniature minstrelsy from outside the bar, his nose pressed against the glass, his foot caught in a bear trap. He felt the unfairness of the world well up in him, and as he limped away, his cloak wrapped tightly around him (because he was becoming self conscious about his nipples being on show), his air instruments clutched under his arm, a tear of self pity and frustration formed in his eye, and rolled down his leathery cheek. 

[fsn]

Just so you can get the tunes in your head:

Scene 2: Be Fair

Scene 3: PO

Scene 4: What it Is

The full album will be available from FSN only £19.99 in a collectors "FSN Goes to the Pantdraken" sleeve. 

[skywalker]

Brilliant piece of Christmas cheer. Well done 

[d_Guy]

Just so you can get the tunes in your head:

FSN, first let me say that, as I suspicioned, once you slowed down huffing the ether you would prove to be a gifted writer - well done!

Also I don't know how you arranged it but when I queued up the Meghan Trainor vid I first got an advert for "Mike's Hard Lemonade"

Finally - Joyous Noel , Bra'!

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Well done FSN! Getting better all the time!


Can someone please explain it to me?

[Techno]

Can someone please explain it to me?

Yes.....He's extracting the urine. 

FSN, first let me say that, as I suspicioned, once you slowed down huffing the ether you would prove to be a gifted writer - well done!

We keep telling him that.

Cheers - Phil

[Sandinista]

   I think 

Cheers
Ian

[Tawa]

Deary me