Christmas

[Ithoriel]

Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?

It's the twelve days of Christmas - clue is in the title

The twelve days of Christmas run from Christmas Day to Twelfth Night (or in some traditions from Boxing Day to Twelfth Day). Basically Christmas to Epiphany.

Each gift should be more extravagant than the last and alliteration is common. I'd say you have twelve days of composing ahead of you. I have no doubt of your ability to this because you are mad as a fish so wonderfully inventive! 

I've loved it so far, hope you can keep it going!

[Ithoriel]

A suggestion to get you started fsn:

On the twenty-fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me

Twenty-four Galactic Governments

Twenty-three World Dominations

Twenty-two Ancient Empires

Twenty-one Covetous Countries

Twenty Total Wars

Nineteen Nascent Nations

Eighteen Early Warnings

Seventeen Sirens Sounding

Sixteen Standing Armies

Fifteen Dictators Dancing

Fourteen Fortresses Falling

Thirteen Toppled Monarchs

Far from a finished article but food for thought, maybe?

[get2grips]

Wasn't that on the Christmas Cracker jokes on day 1? Do keep up.

I'm a slow reader

[fsn]

Well, it's a bit brisker today. I came home and was surprised and almost gladded that there was no Pendraken package nailed, glued, stapled or otherwise affixed to my front door. However I had spoken too soon, for the little old lady called my attention to one of those distinctive neutral, regular packages on the ground under one of the magnificent trees that gladden the avenue wherein I dwell. She bent to retrieve the package and there was mighty "snap" and she disappeared. I tutted at the minor inconvenience of having to retrieve the package myself, and found that she'd been distracted by a rope hung from the tree, doubtless by some hooded youth as an alternative form of entertainment to illegal narcotics and petty larceny, and was now engaged in some admittedly impressive aerial gymnastics suspended from the rope by her foot. All the time, she was whooping and hollering in excitement, so I Ieft her to it and retreated indoors with my package intact.

Ripping open the package with barely felt glee, I dumped the contents of the table. They were all there the gun-toting tree, the poxy South-East Asian French buffoons and their increasing ugly desert companions. The paints as always provided a distraction – these from Pendraken's "Hollywood" range: "Soylent Green", "Crimson Tide", "Into the Blue" and "RED".

The five top totty come from a range that I think will not be very popular. They're from the "Totty dressed as the things that Royal Navy ships at the Battle of Jutland have been named after" range. OK here goes. Let's start with an easy one there a girl dressed as a big cat – HMS Tiger.  Then there's a maiden attached to a number of wooden boards that obviously affect her ability to bend – HMS Inflexible. The third is slightly more difficult; she's attired to represent the lead singer of the popular '80s band Ultravox – HMS Midge. The fourth ... this must be wrong ... it's just the superhero Storm as portrayed in the X-Men films by the lovely Halle Berry. There was no HMS Storm at Jutland was there? ... ah ... oh ... tenuous ... it's HMS Marvel. The fifth is my particular bug bear. It's a tiny goddess leading a lamb, with a huge joint of meat in her other hand. This apparently represents HMS Barham. "Baa-Ham" – what feeble minded oaf thought that one up?

That's put me in a bad mood. Right, those 6 artillerymen can go to the chemistry experiment, as can the half-cut swimming Seeps, once I've plucked out the drivers and subjected them to some attitude readjustment with a hammer.

The eight she-regicides are of an oriental theme today. Shuriken, naginata, asymmetric bows, and all dressed in ninja gear. Those will be useful.

Not so the nine Regency gentlemen pegging. Is there a serious need for these? Scruff 'em up and they will pass for guerrillas, but how many Lords of Chaos does one army need?   With all these leaders wouldn't things get a bit chaotic. Oh. That's probably the point.

So today's attempt to drive me completely out of what few senses I have left? To quote a character I'm awfully fond of: I do not believe it! This addition to the League of Ausberg range, which to be honest seems to have it's tentacles around the pink and crinklies of the Pendraken leadership, (I'm sorry, that's just how I feel) is, believe it or call me a damned liar, a selection of eleven pikemen looking through holes in a fence! I have to say they are really beautifully done (must be yours Clib, so clean) but really, does the LoA warrant such attention?

So this eleventh gift at Christmas Pendraken sent to me 11 Pikemen peeping, 10 Lords of Chaos, 9 Dandies lancing, 8 ways to kill king, 7 Seeps a swimming, 6 gunners laying,  5 top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, 2 Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.

The advent calendar. Not that I care. Those Ausberg pikemen have put me right off Christmas. I just don't think I'll bother any more. I suppose I should thought. Wouldn't want to disappoint you all. Today's advent calendar commemorates the Boston Tea Party of 1773. Well this should be interesting. Perhaps a man disguised as a native in the act of throwing a box overboard ... not exactly. It's a laughing Uncle Sam figure with a huge mug of coffee. Is that supposed to cheer me up?   

I'm in such a bad mood, I'm not even going to try my latest gift from the goodie bag. Pendraken are apparently going to offering a range called "you are the General." It's basically dress up clothes for wargamers. I'm not sure who mine is meant to be, could anyone help? There's a grenadier cap, one rough brown sandal (with no socks), a chain mail skirt and a t-shirt bearing the appellation "Hannibal does it with elephants." All this topped off with a blowpipe, bosun's whistle and a cloak made, if I'm not mistaken, from the feathers of starlings.

I'm going to cheer meself up with a dip into "FSN in Pendrakenland."


"I'm glad you're here." Red said, putting his arm around Lemmy's shoulder.

"Mmmm mmm mmmm?" Asked Lemmy, suddenly nervously aware that he'd run out of Lynx Africa three days ago.

"Well, I've just got the feeling that if you hadn't been there, it would have been me with an arrow through the chest, or scratched to death by flying monkeys or ..." 

"Leave it, son. There's plenty time for you to meet a gruesome end. I know the yellow plastic road is straight and has no intersections or junctions, but I wouldn't trust this tweet to get us lost." Bert disentangled Lemmy from Red's embrace. They ambled after FSN who was singing gustily,

"Sweet painted army,
Seems it's always been the same
Getting paid,
For being played,
Guess that's the name of the game."

"If he's given up using the right words, how will we know when he's singing 'Grey Seal' and so get to Clib him to deaf?" Pondered Red.

"We could always listen for the tune!" Offered Bert, and they all laughed. FSN heard the laughter and stopped. He waited as they ambled towards him, his arms folded, his foot aching to tap.

"Something amusing you, gentlemen?"  he asked, acid dripping from every word.

"Mmmm mmm mmm mmm mmmmmm m mmmmmm! Mmm mm mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm mmmm mmm!" Lemmy explained. The other two nodded in solemn agreement. FSN fizzled in impotent range, then led off, no longer in the mood to sing 'Grey Seal'.

It was a sullen quartet that continued. FSN leading far ahead, muttering about the miserable bar stands behind him, the miserable bar stand muttering about the student Cant ahead of them. The faster FSN walked, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got, the faster he walked. He got so far ahead, that he couldn't hear Bert's warning.

"C'mon you two, if he gets much further ahead of us, we'll be counted as out of contact with a leader and since he's already passed us off we'll ..." his words were cut off by the descent from the heavens of a large black regular shape which landed on the yellow plastic road between them and FSN.

"Frolic it!" Said Bert. "We're demoralised."

In front of the oversize die, FSN was demoralising his underwear. The huge die separated him from his support and he was now well and truly on his own. He ran to the die and beat upon it with impotent fists, he pushed the dots to see if his frantic and random pressing would open some secret cavern or recall the die to whence it came. Eventually he exhausted himself and sat on the yellow plastic road, his back against the die. His spirits had sunk to rock bottom, brought in a JCB and were excavating a new low.

"I wish I were back beyond the magnifying glass. I do, I do. I don't belong here. It's an awful place." He would have wept, but he was too dispirited even for that, so he took the ling from his pocket and cradled it, and sat, and rocked as all around him the darkness closed in.

"All the young girls love Alice," FSN's ears pickled up.  Was he really hearing what he thought he was hearing? A pause.

"Send me young Alice they say."  Yes. From the other side of the die. Voices, friends, companions!

"If I roll you a number will you come and relive me?" FSN sang. He heard muted tutting then:

"Wait till my husband's away." Oh yes! FSN's heart used the excavation as a launch pad, launched and soared into the emotional firmament. His boys, his men had not deserted him. They had stuck by him. He was truly a leader of men! Caesar, Alexander, Marlborough, Get2Grips, Montgomery and now FSN! He felt the die at his back shift and rise slightly.

"All the young girls love Alice," the voices were singing stronger now. Surely those on the other side of the die had felt it move. FSN joined in the song with gusto.

"Tender young Alice they say,
Come over and see me,
Come over and please me,
Alice, it's ..."

Bert's slap pulled him up short.

"It's gone. You can shut the frolic up."

"What was it?" Asked FSN.

"Was it a black obelisk from Space Oddyssey 2001?  Or a Black Eyebeast from Dairylea Triangle 3?" Asked Red.

"It was a giant frolicking die. Whole frolicking landscape is covered with carp these days. Someone gets a bit twitchy and next thing you know is these great big cubes come crashing down behind you. Bit unnerving at the best of time, but when you're not happy it doesn't frolicking help." FSN opened his mouth to sympathise, but Bert cut him off. "And if that isn't bad enough there's the rules. All the frolicking rules, plonked down on the terrain and you can't get round them, have to wait until the tweet that dropped them gets of his arts and move 'em." Again FSN tried to offer his sympathy.

"But if that's not enough, you're lumbered with lots of carp on your base." He gesticulated at his own feet. "You're not too bad, I may be flocked up to the tentacles, but some tweets lumber the lads with all sorts. Think how embarrassing it would be to turn up for a rumble and be sent home because the grass at your feet is the wrong sort! It's all wrong. I know some Soviet lads who have to lug a frolicking wall around with them." Again FSN made to interject, but Bert had not finished.

"AND they couldn't even claim to be in hard cover. Enfiladed wherever they went, carrying a frolicking wall around. Stalingrad my arts."

"Finished?" Asked FSN, kindly.

"Suppose so."

"Good. Now, perhaps you could tell us about this lot."  Bert raised his gaze and saw a group of shambling figures approaching. They were an hideous bunch – none of them properly painted, some of them with twisted or missing limbs, others with crude additions in putrid green or unhealthy grey. The worst stumbled blindly, the tops of their heads crudely hacked away.

"Frolic me! Conversions. They get fewer every time Pendraken release a new range, but they're always with us. Poor bar stands! They used to be proper soldiers once, till some evil fiend got his hands on them – fancied himself a Techno – and this is the result. "

Bert was on his feet and running, but more conversions were blocking the way. He clocked his Sten and stood ready to sell his life dearly. Red and FSN took their places beside him, a la Charlies' Angels in suitably martial poses. Lemmy was too slow, and was brought down by one of the conversions. Others piled on and Lemmy was ripped limb from limb. As each conversion took his piece of Lemmy, he affixed it to his own broken body. Sometimes the addition improved the conversion, sometimes it created a more hideous and malformed monster.   

"Oh my cod! They've killed Lemmy!" FSN shrieked. 

The conversions were not satisfied by the destruction of poor Lemmy. They shifted their attention to the remaining trio and slowly, stumbling and groaning circled their prey. Closer and closer they came.

"Is this the end?" Wondered FSN. Red shone his torch in a few eyes, but they wouldn't stop. Bert clocked his Sten again.

"Shoot them!" Screamed FSN.

"Can't!"

"Why not? Is it because you can imagine who they used to be?"

"Frolic that! This isn't a real gun." Bert held his Sten ready to Clib the conversions to deaf with the bat. Maimed hands reached for FSN, conversions limped and hopped and shuffled closer, and empty mouths gave voice to low, warning groans.

"We're done for!" Said Bert, felling a conversion by fetching him a fourpenny one.
Just as if it seemed the end was near, the conversions stopped. A low howl ran through the horde. Beneath it, a new could be heard. A drum of hooves, and a high pitched cry. At first the noise was indistinct, but as it drew nearer the cry could that FSN identified as "low-view, low-view".

"Do dwarf cavalry shout 'low-view'?" He asked.

"Nope. That sound you hear is us falling neatly from the frying pan into the fire. Even the conversions are scared of these bar stands."  True enough, the conversions had broken away and were shuffling away as fast as their various forms of locomotion could take them. "No one knows where they come from, probably some other dimension, for there's no one I know of would give them table room. What you hear isn't 'low-view' it's 'luv you'. What we're about to meet is the Love You Bears, and it sounds as if they're mounted on My Tiny Ponies."

The drumming became a rumble and FSN, Bert and Red stood ready to meet cavalry.   

[Techno]

 
How do you keep this up ?
Cheers - Phil

[petercooman]

Just noticed as well that fsn has more posts than me - even though he's only been here for less than a year (I know that's hard to believe, how quiet it must have been in 2012).

Perhaps I need to start a campaign for something...

More painting diary!!!! 

[fsn]

How do you keep this up ?

I think the bigger question is why do I keep this up?

Haven't you all suffered enough?

[Ithoriel]

I think it's catching fsn 

I give you Away In A (Pendraken) Manger

Away in a manger Clib can't go to bed
or little lord Leon will slap his sweet head.
The stars in the forum can hear Leon say,
that better not be Techno asleep in the hay!

Someone's complaining, the forum awakes,
how Pendraken's Leon no notice he takes.
We love thee Pendraken but oh tell me please,
How can you make THIS thing but not make me THESE??

God bless you Pendraken, long may you stay,
I'll visit your website most every day.
God bless you Pendraken, you don't make a fuss,
though you must sometimes wonder why you put up with us!!

[Techno]

Very good I.
Cheers - Phil

[Fenton]

I think it's catching fsn 

I give you Away In A (Pendraken) Manger

Away in a manger Clib can't go to bed
or little lord Leon will slap his sweet head.
The stars in the forum can hear Leon say,
that better not be Techno asleep in the hay!

Someone's complaining, the forum awakes,
how Pendraken's Leon no notice he takes.
We love thee Pendraken but oh tell me please,
How can you make THIS thing but not make me THESE??

God bless you Pendraken, long may you stay,
I'll visit your website most every day.
God bless you Pendraken, you don't make a fuss,
though you must sometimes wonder why you put up with us!!

A small tear is rolling down my cheek, I am really quite moved

[fsn]

Excellent stuff, sir!




I was thinking of a panto for next year - "Widow Tanky", "Ali Baba and the 40mm anti-aircraft gun", or dare I say it "Marder Goose".

[petercooman]

Excellent stuff, sir!




I was thinking of a panto for next year - "Widow Tanky", "Ali Baba and the 40mm anti-aircraft gun", or dare I say it "Marder Goose".

Would this version of ali baba include him training the aircraft gun on the vases? Otherwise i'm interested! 

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

 

Two minor points: Lemmey and "Mmmmm'mm mm mmmmm mmm!"

[Techno]

Haven't you all suffered enough?

No....Where's today's episode ?....You slacker !
Cheers - Phil.

[fsn]

Gentlemen, today I have had something of an emotional distress which has left me all out of sorts. My hands are trembling and I feel my heart pounding. I may even have one of my heads later, but first I feel the need to share, and in sharing to act as a warning.

They are everywhere. You can't tell just by looking at them, but they lurk in the very fabric of society – excuse me, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I returned home today to be greeted by the sight of my next door neighbour gesticulating at me and waving a Pendraken package. Suspecting nothing, I went to his abode to retrieve my post and, well gentlemen, now would be the time to send your children from the room, to blindfold your women folk  (tell them it's Friday, they'll understand) and perhaps to get yourself a stiff one.

Gentlemen, I looked past my next door neighbour and was horrified by what I saw. There, openly and without shame he displayed his foul predilection for all to see. I gasped, and I will confess, took a step backwards. If I had not then felt my sturdy stick in my hand, I perhaps would have fled, but reminding myself of all that I held dear, that it could not be sullied by such corruption, I held my ground. I tried, gentlemen, I tried to keep my temper but it boiled up in me, here in my street, he practices this foulness, and there he stood grinning at me, his ugly, scarred fist gripping my Pendraken.

He stepped back, and in doing so confirmed my greatest fear. Upon his wall was the metallic double headed eagle that signifies someone so deep rooted in Games Workshop that there is no redemption. There! I have said it Gentlemen. Could someone please see to RusselPhillips? I think he's quite overcome with the horror. Fan his face with that e-book, there's a good chap. Thank you Ryman. Much appreciated.

Anyway, in this den of rankness they stood – I cannot give them there true dark names but there were space marine, orcs, trolls of every hue, ugly bloated  vehicles, a shelf crammed with publications of that low sort,  and a full range of Citadel paints. Such quantities, such unfeasible colours, such elaborate expense. Gentlemen I believe in that room there was not one figure repurposed, not one unit that deviated from the structure assigned it in the dark manuals. Horrible, gentlemen, horrible.  

Frankly I snapped. The next thing I knew I brought down my stick upon the fiend and sent him flailing backwards into some Uruk-Hai which gave a series of satisfying crunches. I picked up my Pendraken goodies, and, my master stroke gentlemen, I told him that I was on my way to phone the post office and have my alternate address changed to the little old lady, and that's exactly what I did.  It's the only way to treat such fellows.

Some I sit here with a cup of tea. It's a blend my mother recommended. Frankly it's a bit gritty, like there's sand or fine particles of glass in it. Perhaps I'll just put it through the strainer to get rid of the tea leaves.

While that's doing let's open the advent calendar. It's 17th December so that is ..."the German counter attack in the Ardennes, 1944". Another long and thin one ... could this be a ship? No, no, it's a line of GI's – and yes, it's broken. Quite badly in fact. Shame.

So to the package. My encounter with that despicable man next door has made me recognise how fortunate we (the strawberry pips under the Pendraken dental plate) are. Ah, the lovely sniper still clings to his arboreal perch, and the two charming Zouaves. The three Free French Brens grin cheerfully up at me.

Once again, Pendraken have graced me with four pots of their latest range of acrylics. Fine materials for the noble hobbyist. Look! Look! These are from the "FSN" range. How sweet, in fact, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I may have something in my eye. The "FSN" range. I'm honoured. Quite the fillip I needed after my recent tribulation.

We have "Annoying Orange", "Irksome Purple", "Doesn't he go on a bit brown", and "I swear I'll have him by the throat next time he mentions the Centurion Mark III Green".  Delightful.

There's a note here from Techno attached to the 5 top totty figures. It says "It's all my work. Everything you've had has been me, mine, my work. The top totty, the 8 ways to kill king, all those figures you cooed over it is my work. That Leon the Thinker was all me, such small, tiny details that it made my eyes go out of balance and I had to lie in a darkened room listening to Polynesian shell music. Clib couldn't do that level of quality, he could only dream of it! He's a makeweight, barely graduated from Playdoh. I wouldn't use him to mix my putty, and you couldn't recognise that you f..." well, the rest is just a warm personal message.

So the five top totty come from ... would you believe it the "FSN fantasy Forum" range. Again, you'll have to excuse me, as I appear to be filling up somewhat.

So to start with the obvious one, there's a rock chick, wearing a flat leather cap and little else, with strategically placed bass guitar – that's Maid Lemmy. Moving on, there's what appears to be a bio-mechanoid queen from an acquisitive space faring race that has nothing really to do with a very popular TV series sequel – Techa. Thirdly, and a favourite of mine, is a voluptuous 1950's screen goddess, as if she had married the Sub-Lieutenant of HMS Troutbridge and appeared in a bawdy remake of the Decameron. It's Jane Russell-Phillips, who wears a wimple with discrete veil covering her salient points. (Younger members may have to ask older ones to explain that one to them.) The fourth out the bag is a lean and lovely creature. An elf with pointy ears, in a very tight archers doublet and stockings, robin hood cap jaunty atop her tresses, holding a longbow to her body as if she's about to dance with (or on) it. Yes, it's Elf-Oriel. Now this last is, of all the figures I've seen from Pendraken my favourite. It's Fentonia. She's a naughty minx of a school girl who is about to be properly punished, so is leaning forward in her short pleated skirt ...

Anyway there's a list here of some of the of the others in the range ...the Lass Hussar, Just a Few Nawks, SeiBigBasque, Barbara-Ann the Cimmerian, and Molllie-Mary the C17 maid.

Hang on just got to mop my ... 'cos I spilt my ... yes, that's got it.

Then there's the little Ausberg gunners. Fine sturdy little fellows. The Seeps – I think now have enough to essay the Rhine! Oh! The 8 regicides. These ones are unarmed, so they're proably karate experts or something. They'll use their hands to pop the old monarch off.  The dandies lancing – perhaps they would make an unusual demonstration games - and the stern Lords of Chaos. I thought I could perhaps use one main figure, then the rest become aspects of the original Lord of Chaos – painted slightly differently to show their particular avatar's characteristics? The eleven pikemen peeping. What exactly is the League of Ausberg? I'm sure it's fascinating.  

This new element is, well quite odd, and although I can see that it has a specific use for some gamers – but I don't see the need for twelve of them! Let me explain, you take this figure here (lovely sculpting, obviously Techno's handiwork) and ... look at that! Just had a look through the magnifying glass and do you know the little chap looks like me! Wonderful work. Truly inspired. Anyway. You pull this up ... like this  ... and my little chap goes in  ... here ... then ... hang on, this bit is a bit tricky ... when you're ready you pull ... this ... down comes the blade and the little chap's head comes off. A working guillotine isn't to my taste, but it may encourage Revolutionary armies.

So for this twelfth (and final) gift a Christmas, Pendraken sent to me 12 heads a rolling, 11 pikemen peeping, 10 Lords of Chaos, 9 dandies lancing, 8 maids to kill king,  7 Seeps a  swimming, 6 gunners laying, 5 top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, Two Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.

What was the pressie from the goody bag? Best thing I could get really. It was a note from Leon, well I think Dave wrote it for him, it was grown up writing,  saying that he and the entire Pendraken crew were looking forward to my continued custom in 2014, and how much they appreciate my suggestions for new ranges and product development.  There's even a footnote that says they enjoy my little posts on the forum and almost beg me to increase my contribution. Very touching. I am really touched.  

Anyway, I've read on a bit in of "FSN in Pendrakenland", but shall we carry on?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"That was an epic battle!" FSN spoke in wonderment as they marched away, the light of the burning Zeppelin at their backs.

"And all those fishy puns!" Red chipped in. "Priceless. 'Red Snapper'." He chuckled at the memory.

"I thought we'd had it, but your torchy thing saved the day." Bert added.  Another troop of Tsar Tanks rumbled and squeaked past, their commanders exchanging friendly waves with the traveller.

"They're a bit late for everything but the clean up." Mused FSN.

"There will be a great after battle party," said Bert, hopefully, "those Viking lads know how to party, and if you get enough drink in the Amazon Queen, she does these amazing Beyonce impressions." He looked back, but FSN was determined to end his quest. The ling was uncomfortable and squirmed his displeasure, and was it just FSN's imagination, or was the fish getting heavier?

"We must find the Marder. Stay if you want, I will carry on alone." He lengthened his stride, and began singing.

"And tell me grey seal,
How does it feel to be so wise,
To see through eyes,
That only see what's real,
Tell me grey seal"  

Bert automatically gripped his Sten, ready to Clib FSN to deaf. However, he faltered. After all, hadn't FSN turned the tide, led the Anubis warriors in that final bloody charge? Red laid his hand on Bert's arm. Shook his head.

"Go on you student Cant. Sing! Sing out, and let's hope you soon get out of my frolicking hair." In truth, Bert had no hair, just Denision smock painted up to his beret.  

Time had no meaning in Pendrakenland, so they may have marched for ten minutes or perhaps for hours. Ahead of them the light that FSN had seen from the top of the hill grew steadily. It drew them, FSN especially. The closer they came, the more effort it took for him to pick up one heavy foot and then the other. With both feet in the air, he fell frequently, but pushed on. The ling in his pocket became heavier and hotter at every step. He became aware of the smell of his own sweat, and gently poaching fish.

"Soon, my precious ling, soon, we will see the Marder." He began to sing an eerie ditty.

"Soon my precious, precious ling,
We shall sea what we shall sea,
To the Marder you I bring,
And what shall bee would always bee."

He giggled. He'd slipped an insect pun in. His mind was clouded but for his one desire to reach the light, to see the Marder. What then, he didn't know, but to get the ling to the Marder was all that mattered.

The explosion blew him off his feet. A cloud of cotton wool showed how close he had come to annihilation. Bert and Red grabbed him by the armpits and drew him to cover. Another explosion, and another plume of cotton wool.

"Did you see the flash?" Asked Bert.

"No, do it again." Said FSN, his mind cleared.

"There!" Red pointed a scarlet clad arm at an enormous hedge of lichen. Indeed there had been movement. Bert reacted instinctively. He took a grenade from his pouch.

"Before you ask: no, I am not a frolicking marsupial." He grinned at FSN, then moved. Another boom, and another cloud of cotton wool. Bert ran for all he was worth. He reckoned that as long as they didn't have a machine gun he would be OK. He reached the comparative safety of the hedge. Above him the mighty gun boomed again. He looked to see where the shell landed and saw FSN haring after him, arms waving.  

"Student Cant!" Thought Bert. He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade neatly over the hedge into the fighting compartment of ... the Marder.  

"Oh frolic! " Said Bert as the grenade exploded with a dull metallic clang. Black, oily cotton wool poured from the Marder.

"Well I hope you're satisfied!" FSN panted. "Just gone and destroyed the only way of me getting home. Thank you very much Bert." He folded his arms in a disapproving manner.

"Sorry." Mumbled Bert, kicking at a piece of Marder debris with his toe.

"It doesn't mean anything unless you say it properly."  Chided FSN. Bert took a deep breath.

"What the frolic's wrong with him?" He said. Red was haring towards them, arms waving. The answer came in the form of another explosion of white cotton wool. Red skidded to a halt beside them.

"More of them!" he yelled.  "More frolicking Marders!"

"Do you know, I don't think that you've mentions a silly planet name for hours, Red. I'm very proud of you."

"Why thank you FSN. To be honest, I've not really felt the need." Red basked in the glow of honest praise, freely given.

A second Marder nosed around the hedge.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Called the Marder in a voice reminiscent of Alan Bennett. "I'm ready to send you home, FSN. Just come to me ... and bring the ling."

FSN collapsed. He's tried running with both feet off  the ground again, with no success. He pulled the ling from his pocket. It looked distressed and afraid.

"You don't want to go to the Marder, do you my lovely ling?" He cuddled the ling and thought looked around desperately for a way of escape. Another Marder had crept around the other side of the hedge and an third had cut off their escape. Three 0.0508mm (that's 76.2mm in 1:150) cannon were turned on the trio.

"Come, come", chided the Marder, "it's only a silly fish. Give it to me and you can go home." The Alan Bennet voice purred silkily.

"Never!" Shouted FSN. "Never will you have my precious ling!" The Marder chuckled.
 
"Well then. Bert, would you Clib him to deaf and give me the ling from his body?"

"Frolic off!" Again, the stubborn response was met with a gentle chuckle.

"Well then, perhaps, Red, you could distract them with your torchy thing sufficiently to wrest the ling from FSN, and give it to me." Red remained silent. "Your shirt is torn, Mr Shirt, exposing some well toned pecs, but you are largely unhurt ... so far." Red kept his silence, and just looked away.

"Very well, then, I'm afraid we'll just have to kill you." The Marders took a deep breath. FSN hugged the ling tightly and closed his eyes. Three heavy shots rang out.  FSN opened one eye. He seemed to be alive and unhurt. He opened the other. Bert too seemed to be whole. Red waved at him nervously. The Marders had stalled, white cotton wool pouring from their fighting compartments and black from under the hull.

"What the frolic?" Asked Bert?

"Language Bert." The new voice was deep and warm. Comforting, like Sean Connery. The trio sought the source of the voice. It came from the light, which was much brighter now, pure and dazzling.

"What of the Marder?" Asked FSN. The light chuckled a warm sound, like brown velvet stroked on your cheek.

"He was just a tank destroyer with delusions of adequacy. He had no power. You have the power FSN. Had it with you all the time." FSN immediately knew what the voice meant.

"What do I have to do?" He asked.

"Listen. Just listen."

FSN lifted the ling to his face. He stared at the little fishy eyes, and he concentrated. He concentrated and concentrated so hard that a little windy pop escaped. He blushed and began concentrating again. The ling wrinkled his little fishy nose and stared deep into FSN's eyes. In his mind FSN could hear a voice, the voice of the ling, deep in his brain.

"Hold until relieved. Hold until relieved."  Definitely Richard Todd. The voice continued "Hold until relieved. Hold until relieved."

"Hold until relieved." FSN repeated. "Hold until relieved, hold until ..."

FSN started as his head hit the magnifying glass. He jerked upright. He was back in his room! Never, he promised, never would he again spray varnish in an unventilated room.  

He looked through the magnifying glass. There lay a British paratrooper (BR11), but this one had his arm raised in a familiar two fingered salute. Beside him lay a Zombie survivor (SFZ6) that he had been trying a paint conversion on.  

FSN rolled a small piece of putty. A really, really small piece. Leon the Thinker small, and fixed it between the paras fingers.

"Have a cigarette, Bert". He murmured. "And for you, Red ..." he mixed a strong purple, being careful to mix the paint properly.

As he made to get rid of the hated red shirt, he was aware the light was wrong. While he had dozed, he had knocked the lamp and now it shone onto something that reflected back a pure and dazzling light.

"The Perfect One. The source of all real power.  Centurion number 1." One day, thought FSN, he would have to paint the Perfect One, but not today.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So that's it. Twelve days, twelve posts of the utterest tripe that can be found. If you have enjoyed it half as much as I have then you really didn't like it very much at all. I sincerely apologise if I have upset anyone, it was not my intent.

I would also like to say that if Pendraken ever want to use any of my ideas, I retain copyright, but we can get my people to talk to your people.

Now I'm going to give this forum the best present they could hope for. I promise not to post again until 2014.

That's nearly quarter past eight.

Merry Christmas all, and I wish you a peaceful and prosperous 2014.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Brilliant FSN...

Glad I played a tiny, tinny part...

Have a great Xmas sir. 

[Fenton]

Brilliant FSN...

Glad I played a tiny, tinny part...

Have a great Xmas sir. 

Oh I thought it was meant to be Lemmey from Motorhead

[Techno]

Oooooh....You fibber !...I never wrote that....

You know that wasn't me, 'cos I bet it wasn't written in crayon !
(And I've only done two 'totty' type figures figures in the last few weeks ......And the only nude figure I've made of Leon is of him playing with his x-box in front of the Tele......And I DO like Clibby's stuff....LOTS & LOTS & LOTS......)

Now if you don't get your damn tank out of my fields, I'm going to start charging you parking fees ! 

Have a great one yourself Matey.

[Russell Phillips]

He stepped back, and in doing so confirmed my greatest fear. Upon his wall was the metallic double headed eagle that signifies someone so deep rooted in Games Workshop that there is no redemption. There! I have said it Gentlemen. Could someone please see to RusselPhillips? I think he's quite overcome with the horror. Fan his face with that e-book, there's a good chap. Thank you Ryman. Much appreciated.

Damn, I've been unmasked. All this time I've managed to keep up my pretence of being one of the AP shells in the Pendraken Mark III Centurion, and now my secret is out.

Curse you, FSN. May your dice always land crooked.

[fsn]

They always do, my friend, they always do.