Well, I got a parcel from Pendraken today. Awfully excited as always, but since got my Soviet 1941 stuff yesterday, I wasn't really expecting anything. Anyway, imaging my surprise when I opened the gaudily papered box and saw what I take to be some Pendraken promotional goods. Obviously out favourite 10mm purveyor of goodliness is having a good year and is giving something back to their more illustrious customers.
Anyway, I thought I'd share some of the contents of this veritable cornucopia of with those of you who haven't received your goody box.
Firstly, there's a figure. It must be some sort of limited edition piece from Minibits. It's a lovely evergreen, beautifully detailed and based in a wintery manner. There's even a little figure high up in the branches, you can just see his bare head and the long musket or fowling piece he's deliberately aiming. Lovely sculpting. So for this first gift for Christmas, Pendraken gave to me, a sniper in a fir tree.
There's also an advent calendar. I've popped open December 1st to 5th and snaffled the contents. Pity, because I think I've just eaten a lethal quantity of lead, or at least sufficient metal to make potty time interesting for the next few days. Anyway, the 6th December commemorates Flight 19 of US Navy Avengers, taking off from Fort Lauderdale in 1945 for a training flight between Florida and Bermuda. Well, I'll just pop open the window, it's a triangular one ... Oh. They've disappeared.
Well the next thing is a big box of Christmas crackers. I love crackers, and to be honest, I just pulled them all as soon as I could. So, I'm sat here wearing my Pendraken paper crown. Just my Pendraken paper crown, because when the postie arrived, I was playing on the XBox. Anyway, I've pulled all the crackers, and thought I'd share with you the jokes. I think Dave wrote them all. It looks like his penmanship. Anyway, I pass them on
Why was Mr M Mouse of Buena Vista arrested by the FBI? Mince Pies.
Why don't you get a large number of high elves to paint your armies? Because Just A Few Orcs can do it better.
What the solution for having only one covering for your bike's handlebar? Get two grips
Why did Henry Crun fear MI5? Mince Pies.
In East Anglia there's an Imperial unit of weight that is considered to be the best weight that ever there was. It is, for an artificially constructed concept, exceptionally handsome, talented, witty and intelligent. What's it called? The Fen-Ton.
Is the Technology Department aware of the problems casting this new Top Totty range? Yes, Tech know.
Why did Max keep a wary eye out for the Noun Abbreviation Anti-Terrorist Squad? Mince Pies.
Why aren't the first followers of Jan Huss, the C15 Bohemian priest, philosopher, leader and martyr, known for his use for armoured wagons, carrying the Christmas presents in? Because the Last Hus are.
Why does Mr Driver, husband of the British actress who starred in Good Will Hunting, The Phantom of the Opera and Hunky Dory, and sometime recording artists worry about a raid from the Flying Squad? Mince Pies.
Why were the Germans concerned about attempts to steal nebelwerfer technology during WWII? Moaning mince pies.
Why don't you get Father Raymond to paint your Pendraken 10mm Confederate artillery? Because son Ray can do it better.
Why does the packing dwarf who has responsibility for the Revell 1:144 micro-planes only deal with Kit A, Kit B, Kit C and Kit D? Because he fears Kit E.
Why did the Americans in Viet Nam raise their alert level at Xmas? Ho-Ho-Ho-Chi Mince Pies.
Well that was fun.
;D ;D ;D ;D
And how long have you been working on that Matey ? :-\
Cheers - Phil.
Jeeves, fetch my fouling rifle...
Quote from: Techno on 06 December 2013, 06:53:32 PM
And how long have you been working on that Matey ? :-\
Cheers - Phil.
In the car coming home tonight. :D
You need to get out less Fsn! :D
Ummmmmmmmm ;D ;D
Another package from Pendraken this morning. Another one of the trees with the little sharpshooter in it. I assume they must be popping these into everything they're sending out at the moment. They've also included a couple of nice little figures (are they yours Mr Clib?) of baggy trousered French troops from the Tonkin expedition of the 1880's. So this second gift at Christmas, Pendraken send to me two Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.
I'm also quite excited to open the Pendraken advent calendar. Let's see, it says "7th December, Pearl Harbour, 1941." Excellent, let's see. Opening the window now, it's quite long and thin ... how lovely an American battleship! Oh, but it's broken! Never mind.
Anyway, today I thought I'd have a go with the Pendraken Board Game. It says "win the race to the Dark Lord's Caverns, and have your heart's desire sculpted." Excellent, sort of a Hobbit thing going on. Let me just unpack the board. It's quite big. There we go. Ah, there's the Dark Lord's Caverns in Middle-Borough. Looks quite scary. And there's other areas here - the moat, Community Chest and remarkably the Library. There's some assembly needed. We've got the little man here, ready to dive into the washtub. That goes ... there and the funny bone goes ... ooops! That made it beep. Right. I think that's it.
So, let me read the rules. "First write down your heart's desire and put it in in the envelope." OK. Done. No, I'm not telling you! Secondly, pick a playing piece. You can be the General, the War Elephant, the cannon, ... very good ... the zombie, the 6e Bataillon de Parachutistes Coloniaux at Dien Bien Phu - all of them - (is that you again Clib?), the Ratte (lovely large piece that), the Gladiator or the fluffy kitten. OK. I'll be the fluffy kitten. (Don't judge me!)
OK. There's my kitten at the start point. Now I throw the dice. A "1" and a ... "1". Well, that's about right, but I will get another throw. One ... two. Right it says "mention your heart's desire on the forum. Go forward three places." Excellent. one, two, three. OK. This one says. "Go back three places." Oh. right. Three, two, one. "mention your heart's desire on the forum. Go forward three places." One, two, three. "Go back three places." One, two, three. This isn't going to work is it? Let's start again.
Back on square one. Throw again. "1" (of course) and the "King of Spades". Right, one, two, three, four, ... is this right? Let me just check the rules. Yup. Eight, nine,ten, Jack, Queen, King. Oh! A vertical assembly assistance. Up we go! Right, now we're in the Blue Zone, and I have to pick a letter from the bag. A "Q". Excellent. That's nearly a full house, or possibly I can make "QUIVER" if I get another vowel. And there would be a double score for anything you can see in the Pendraken catalogue!
I think I have to make a morale check now. Another two dice ... "7" and ... "the North Wind". Wonderful.
That's then end of my turn. Who's next?
I'm still stuck at Hainault on the Central line..l
;D
Ok Mine has jut arrived...Oh my board looks a little different to yours, the figure with the bathtub seems to be a naked bloke with some sort of game controller..maybe I can use some green stuff to give him some shorts
Anyway reading the rules...Hmmm If your counter is within 1mm of the edge of the square and another counter is within one square then a counter that is 6 squares away cant move.. Seems a bit complicated but maybe I am reading them wrong maybe some errata will come out for next Christmas.
Quote from: mad lemmey on 07 December 2013, 11:23:01 AM
I'm still stuck at Hainault on the Central line..l
I think I can help you there. You just need to double down and look for the next available diagonal.
Quote from: Fenton on 07 December 2013, 11:28:40 AM
If your counter is within 1mm of the edge of the square and another counter is within one square then a counter that is 6 squares away cant move.
Well you shouldn't have picked the Ratte should you?
Well they say bigger is better...Maybe I could lose the counter for when we all play on Christmas Day...Now where did that Byzantine green that fell out of the cracker go to?
Can someone pass him the pills and make sure he takes them? ;D
Well here's an odd thing Chaps. Knock on the window this morning, and there was a seagull - a Common Gull, I think - you don't see many of those these days - and attached to its back was a parcel from Pendraken. Had to tip it in sardines, but eventually the beast parted with the package with more or less good grace and flew of to the South-South-East. Note to the chaps at Pendraken, you may want to get a bird with a bit more of a homing sense as Middle-Borough is roughly North East or a few pint North of here.
Anyway, it was a lovely surprise. In it were three figure with machine guns, lovely sculpts (Clib, are they yours?) standing with the machine gun over their shoulders - it is quite obviously a Bren gun. However the exciting thing is that the figure is wearing a beautifully detailed kepi making him obviously French, and he's wearing long shorts. Fascinating detail on the muscles on the arms and the rolled up sleeves. Free French from the desert in 1941-42 I'd say, and he's got a lovely big beard that would be a joy to paint but in real life one suspects would probably smell of tobacco and garlic goat.
There's also another pair of the Tonkin Zouaves. Anyone want them? Not really my thing, and of course they've stuffed in another of their little trees with the marksman in it. I'm accumulating quite a little coppice of death. So for this third gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me three French Brens, two Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree. Lovely. Thank you very much.
So now I think I'll open the advent calendar. Let's see - 8th December 1914, Battle of the Falklands 1914 - of course. Another long and thin window, it's let me just get it out, it's another ship, it's the German ship SMS Leipzig. How lovely! Oh. But it's broken. Never mind, perhaps the chaps at Pendraken could look at the packaging on their advent calendars for next year?
Last night I opened another of the present from my Pendraken gift box. This time it was a jigsaw puzzle. Beautiful thing, and a lovely thought. It's obviously a Churchill tank, but I seem to have a few pieces missing. Has anyone got them? If so, I've a few pieces here that don't seem to fit into my Churchill, don't know what they could be from, but obviously if you've got the rest of the puzzle you'd know.
(http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7331/11251765505_c4508b72c1.jpg)
Quote from: sebigboss79 on 07 December 2013, 12:55:49 PM
Can someone pass him the pills and make sure he takes them? ;D
I think it has got way beyond the pills stage ;) :D
I now just want to see a photograph of Fsn.
I need to put a face on...this.
here you go!
:O)
Bet you he has a horn like that too! :P :P
Here is a picture of FSN whilst portraying his most infamous role of Bluebottle at the East Runcorn Knee Tremblers Pantomime.The other is the famous Eccles who is being portrayed here by Get2Grips
(http://i625.photobucket.com/albums/tt334/SteveW_04/bluebottle_and_eccles.jpg) (http://s625.photobucket.com/user/SteveW_04/media/bluebottle_and_eccles.jpg.html)
You'll never stop me d'you hear! I'm going the full 12 days and no amount of complaint will stop me. :Ph
However, I may be bribed with shiny things. :-\
*offers a small length of tinsel*
Is that enough?
In my best Alec Guiness voice ...
"This is not the shiny I am looking for."
I thought we'd locked you in the cellar ?
Own up...Who let him out ?
Cheers - Phil.
Fenton threw me through it last week and nobody's fixed it since then.
Quote from: fsn on 08 December 2013, 09:47:35 PM
Fenton threw me through it last week and nobody's fixed it since then.
I have to say it was a good door..It took me several attempts to get him through it
Hello again chaps. I've rushed home to open my Pendraken advent calendar. Let's see what is says - "9th December 1941, US Aircraft attack Japanese ships at Vigan." Oh dear, it's another long and thin one. Not had too much luck there have I? Anyway, let's have a go ... it's the IJN cruiser Naka ... and is it broken? Nope. It's fine.
Sorry there was a knock at the door. The next door neighbour took a parcel in for me. I don't really like him doing it, takes me ages to dry everything out. Anyway, look at that, it's another Pendraken packet. What have we here? Well, of course, there's one of those tree things, and bless me they've put the zouaves in too. What's that I've just dropped? OH, it's some more of those French machine gunners, but here's something new - they've put in four pots of paint. That's nice, but I'm not sure I'll use a lot of "Italian pickle green". Still the "French fry yellow" could be useful, and the "Catsup red" is good for Swiss infantry in Napoleon's army. This last is ... well there's no title on it ... let me just open it up and ... ooh nasty. I think we'll put that aside. Is that allowed? Really?
So this fourth gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me four pots of paint, three French Brens, two Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.
Anyway, just time to tell you about another goody from the Pendraken goody bag. It's a 2014 Pendraken calendar. Lovely. For those of you who haven't had one, each month is a photograph of the Pendraken hub at Middle-Borough. You know those calendars when you have lots of naked people with their faces exposed and their privates ... well private? Pendraken has done it the other way round, and all I can say is to one of you is "kudos". Obviously I can't tell who it is, but I think he'll be put in charge of despatching the Ratte as he's used to packing an unfeasibly large object.
I am glad to see the Royal Mail let the paint go through their system
Are you sure its not a Christmas Pudding your looking at on the Calender?
Let me just check ...nope. If you have a look at your copy, check April. Next to the chap covering his modesty with an XBox controller.
Oh yeah..I just thought he was wearing a tartan tank top
X_X
Leon, please NO calendar for me ;D ;D ;D ;D
Being used to getting pirelli styled calenders at work, i'm getting strange mntal pictures.
Soo, like the ratte, is it fictional? :P :P ???
Well, my understanding it's only gone to select members of the forum.
Quote from: fsn on 09 December 2013, 06:41:58 PM
Well, my understanding it's only gone to select members of the forum.
So, just you then? :-\ ;)
Mollinary
:D
So I came home today there was another package from Pendraken. This one had again again been left with my next door neighbour, who helpfully attached it to my front door with some kind of ceremonial knife.
Is there some sort of computer glitch at Pendraken caverns? Another of the little popping fellows in the foliage, more blessed Zouaves and yet more of the Free French machine gunners. More paint too, these from the "body parts" range. I have to question "nipple brown". After extensive research on the internet, I can assure you the colour is not authentic.
More welcome was the set of five bikini clad lovelies with guns. I'd question the choice of weaponry, seem a bit random, but the sculpting is beautifully, almost lovingly done (Clib, is this yours?) The first figure has a slim, almost boyish figure. She's wearing sunglasses - Dior I think, and I could see her as perhaps an Asian girl. She's carrying a small shoulder bag,from which she's pulling a Smith & Wesson .32 revolver. The next figure is slightly taller, more rounded, and she has a lovely pair of Remington 1858 .36's. The third is kneeling, and again, slightly bigger. She's got both hands around her .38 Magnum. The fourth is probably the worst of the bunch being slightly uneven. She's toting a .44-40 Winchester. The last carries an M60 and is positively Reubenesque. So for this fifth gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me: 5 top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, 2 Tonkin Zouaves, and a sniper in a fir tree.
To the advent calendar. Let's see ... "10th December 1861 - Kentucky becomes the 13th state of the Confederacy." Oh lovely! Let's see what the state of Kentucky has contributed to world culture. It's a roundish sort of door, pop it open and ... well, it appears to be a shapeless mass. Ah! From the notes here it represents a chicken nugget. Not sure how I'm going to use that in a game, but never mind.
Delving into the Pendraken sack of goodies, I've today pulled out some DVDs. They're all from the Pendraken Studios, seems to be a straight to video type organisations, and I've been sent some updates of Christmas favourites.
It's a wonderful Lifeguard. David Hasselhoff and Pamela Anderson find the true meaning of Christmas whilst running along a beach. Pammie sports a red bathing suit, but the Hof cannot forget his time protecting Buckingham Palace and spends the entire film wearing back and breast plate. The supporting cast is made up of young actresses who will never be seen again without a staple in their navels.
Gnome Alone. Macaulay Culkin is "accidently" left on his own when the family goes away for Christmas, and nobody cares.
Jack Frost. A British colonel has to defend Arnhem bridge before the sun comes out and he melts. Starring Michael Keaton
The Santa-Anna Clause. Tim Allen has a problem: how can he take the Alamo, and still deliver all the presents at Christmas?
Jungle all the way. Sequel to "Predator". Arnold Schwarznegger reprises his role as Dutch, who having defeated the invisible alien now has to get home in time to buy his son the action figure he wants. But he's stuck in Central America, and it's Jungle All the Way.
A Christmas Karl. George C Scott plays a Victorian miser, who is visited by three ghosts and awakes on Christmas morning a changed man. He buys a 60cm self propelled mortar and bombards Sevastopol.
Die, Marder. Bruce Willis saves Christmas again ... this time it's being threatened by a German tank hunter. Expect shooting, explosions, and Bruce Willis in a vest saying "Yippie Ki Ay, Oedipus"!
(http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3826/11295052323_9799889f5c.jpg)
Elf. Will Ferrell plays an elf who has to save Christmas with his friends Galadriel, Legolas and Aredhel.
(http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5542/11294938225_64a4179b47.jpg)
You really do have a Wonderful life . I am shocked though that Pendraken havnt sent you a sculpted model of your favourite Countdown presenter wrapped in tinsel and strategically placed holly...A Christmas Carol I think its called
FSN World is a happy, happy place. :D
How much time do you put into these. Nice one FSN.
We want photos...
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Somebody find the compartment in his back and take his batteries out !
No...On second thoughts leave them in....Too much fun ! :)
Cheers - Phil
These days it seems to be a long drive home. Then it all pours out like mental diarrhoea.
Eagerly awaiting today's offerings
Well believe it, or believe it not, and I suspect that you do, when I came home today there was yet another package from Pendraken. Unfortunately, this again went to my next door neighbour, who's a singular sort of chap. He's spent the time before my return in transforming the jiffy bag into a near perfect replica of me. I think he wanted me to have it as soon as possible, for he's carefully attached a red silk cord around it, and I came home to find it hanging on the front door from the knob ... suspended by the neck.
Anyway, what have we here? The usual arboreal ambusher, more of these Tonkin Zouaves - do they fit with anything else? What is a Tonkin anyway? And of course, the little bristly faces of the French Bren gunners. Paint, this time it's from the Pendraken Music range. There's "Pink!", "Deep Purple", "Simply Red" and "Deacon Blue". Lovely. Quite lovely.
What is quite new are these five lovely figures (Clib, are they yours?) of girls in some sort of Science Fiction militaristic outfit. The first, the officer, seems very aloof, aristocratic, some would say posh. The second is the standard bearer. I have to say this is the weakest of the five, the flag looks and hangs like a dress from the pole. Not only that, but the standard bearer is downright ugly, a right, as they say, minger. The third figure is a scout, or assassin. Very athletic, very sporty looking. The next is the heavy weapons bearer - very fierce looking. Quite intimidating, quite scary. The last is the medic. Small and quite innocent looking, very young, almost a baby. What's the name of the range? - Spice Marines. Lovely, as I say, quite lovely.
What else is there? Oh. Something from the League of Ausberg range. That's a pity. Artillerymen manning the gun, obviously aiming with an officer of some kind directing fire. So, for this sixth gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me - six gunners laying, 5 top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, 2 Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.
I don't mind being used as some sort of market research for Pendraken, but there's no form or anything to send my comments back on. Perhaps I should email Leon, get this sorted out.
Anyway, it's time for the advent calendar. So the 11th December, what could this be? Ooo. It's a little vignette of a lancer attacking a samurai. Which of course means ... anyone? ... 11th December? No? Me neither. It says here .... let me just adjust my glasses ... "11th December 1941, Poland declares war on Japan." Well, who knew?
OK then. Time to delve into the Pendraken goody bag and today we have ....well this is quite heavy. Oh! Super, it's the "Pendraken Omni Wargames Rule Set". Lovely. "A wargames manual for any period, and any scale figure between 1:144 to 1:160". Let me just describe if for you, it's quite a thick volume, bound in thick leather of some kind, with hand tooled carving of some of Pendraken's offering on the front. Let me just flick through it's, let me see 829 pages of quite close type, with quite a few illustrations some of which have been very neatly coloured in with an unusual palette of crayons.
It's quite neatly set out in sections. "Part 1 - wargaming and it's history", good HG Wells and so on; "Part 2 - collecting and organising your army with Pendraken"; "Part 3, the rules" - that's pages 101 to 462, so they'll be comprehensive then; "part 4, painting guides" and "part 5, corrections and errata" - that's pages 612 to 828. Hmm. Perhaps release 2 will clear some of these up. "part 6, wargaming with non-Pendraken products." That's a single page, page 829. It says ... let me see ... it says "Don't". That's fair enough.
I'll just give you a flavour of how comprehensive these rules are:
"Section 16.1.2a Weather.
16.1.2a.1 For wargames in a hot climate, open the windows and drink beer.
16.1.2a.2 For wargames in a cold climate, keep the windows closed and drink tea.
16.1.2a.3 For night actions, switch the lights on."
Well, beautifully written and quite explicit. Lovely.
Did you really like my crayoning ?. :) :-[
(You've put the batteries back in again, haven't you ?)
Cheers - Phil ;)
I do. Your crayoning was lovely and so neat!.
And, yes, I've just inserted some new Duracell.
=D> =D> =D>
Very good work FSN, more surreal than an episode of the Goodies!
:-)
Funny thing is, I'd probably buy those rules. :D
Splendid stuff, FSN, in a "mad as a hatter" splendid way... ;D ;D ;D
Well chaps, I'm a bit put out today. As I was coming back home, the next door neighbour saw me. He's a big chap, a bit clumsy and doesn't really know his own strength, he's accidentally broken several of my things. Anyway, he was obviously on his way out as I was coming in, and he threw another Pendraken package to me. To aid it's flight, he'd attached the package to a brick, but as I say he's a bit burly, and I had no chance to catch it as it flew closely past my ear, and would you credit it, it struck the little old lady from the other side square on the noggin and she was manoeuvring her little wheeled basked out of the door. Obviously concerned, I rushed over, but everything was all right. No damage to any of the Pendraken goodies at all. Stout jiffy bags, Dave! (Actually, that sounds like a good nickname for him, doesn't it – "Stout Jiffy Bags Dave" – and so accurately descriptive,)
Let's see what we have today. Yes, well I guessed the first thing to flop into my hand would be this again. Been like that for days. Another addition to the lethal copse. And again with the Zouaves, and the little sods with their bristly beards and Brens, and big baggy shorts.
Ah that's more like it. More paint, this time from the "Surreal" range (because you're worth it). What have we got here? "Thought", "Time", "Balance" and "Equality". They're sort of – well, they're a bit difficult to describe. What colour is "thought"? have you considered shades of "Time", will it blend with "Equality" or if you've finished with that colour could you say to be "un-balanced"? It's too much for me.
Another five figures, but what are these? Male figures this time – they're all Leon! How lovely! (Clib, this has to be you!) It says here they represent various aspects of Leon's personality. Well, we all know what that's code for! The first is "Leon the Thinker". He's depicted in a pose similar to Rodin's famous statue. Noble chin resting on hand. Really nice piece of work. Quite accurate to the smallest detail, which is very, very small.
Next one is "Leon the Wise". It depicts Leon as King Solomon, with half a baby in each hand. Frankly, I think this misses the point of the original story somewhat.
Actually, can I just say that the detail on Leon the Thinker is so small that I had to get out the magnifying glass?
The third demonstrates how Leon has to deal with a multitude of tasks and competing demands on his time, it's "Leon the Juggler", and there he is playing with his tiny balls.
The fourth is "Leon the Lover", and all I can say is that's a beautiful rendition of the S10 gas mask I've seen in this scale. Really well done. Even the feathers are well sculpted, in fact the whole chicken.
The last figure has Leon dressed as a C16 Spanish explorer, more beautifully done feathers. This is ... of course, this is the "Ponce de Leon".
What else is there? Ah. More of the benighted LoA gunners, and well this is more useful. It's seven delicate little models of the American version of the Schwimmwagen, a Jeep capable of taking to the water, if you would. Is that Leon driving? No? The Sea-Jeep (or Seep) is shown hull down, inn the act of crossing a river.
So, for this seventh gift at Christmas. Pendraken sent to me seven Seeps a swimming, six gunners laying, 5 not so top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, two Tonkin Zouave, and a Sniper in a fir tree.
I think I'll just have a nice cup of tea. My mother has given me this blend. I'm not sure I like it too much. Smells nutty, almost acrid, like bitter almonds and, do you know, it always makes me a bit drowsy afterwards?
Oh! Oh! The advent calendar. What is today's fact? "1724, Birth of Samuel Hood, English Admiral." Hope it's a sort of personality figure – let's just open the window, very carefully. Ah! It's a British battlecruiser, circa 1941 – and it's really quite broken.
So, I'm just going to sit here and read the latest edition of the Pendraken Gazette, incorporating the Dark Lord News and Playtank. Straight to the middle pages for ... that's disgusting! I've a good mind to write to the editor! League of Ausberg Tumbrel! Yuck! The whole centre section was much better when Playtank was its own publication. I remember my first. I was only thirteen so had to steal my brother's copy. Don't know how he got hold of it, he was only four, but the centre spread that edition was Centurion Mk III. I still get a lump thinking about it.
Here though, there's some news. Remember the film "Die, Marder" with Bruce Willis? Well the film was surprising well received, and the Marder's career has perked up. It's in a new Agatha Christie TV series "Marder at the Vicarage", and I see they're in panto in Middle-Borough starring in "Marder Goose". However, the article says, the Marder does not want to be type cast and is considering a career in music. Well, isn't that nice?
The sports section. Don't really follow sports much, but like to see how the British side is doing. Let's have a look:
Spitfire IX: Messerschmitt Bf 110.
Disappointing result this for the Brits. However it's nearly as bad as last time the two met when it was Spitfire V: Messerschmitt Bf 109 and since that time the Germans have really added mass and doubled their power, but that's made them slower so I though the Spitfire would do better. Could be because the Germans have boosted their defence in the rear. Still, Spitfire are set for a rematch and are going to replace Merlin at the front with Griffin.
Junkers Ju 88: Boeing B 17
This was a massacre that was expected. The German team had home advantage and it was a night fixture as well, and this Junkers Ju team are specialists. All the Americans could do was clump together, but they've lost their confidence after a few instances of home goals recently.
Churchill VII: Panzer IV
This was slugging match, with two heavyweights battering at each other relentlessly. It was a fair result, but the Panzer team was only rated Ausf A. Come the rematch, they may be Ausf H in which case the Churchill will beed to be wary of a much stronger offence and some additions to the defence of the Panzers.
Chi-Ha Type 97: Sherman M 4
Where did this come from? On paper the Japanese team are weaker in defence, shouldn't be able to trouble the Americans with their rather puny offence and don't even have the edge in their ability to move around the field. The only think can be that the Japanese team have the psychological advantage, with the Americans in unfamiliar territory, but who would have pyt money on Chi-Ha type? Not me.
I think you missed one result from the sports section or did you deliberately leave it out?
Centurion III :T-55
Complete dominance by the Russian team as expected
Quote from: Fenton on 12 December 2013, 10:05:46 AM
I think you missed one result from the sports section or did you deliberately leave it out?
Centurion III :T-55
Complete dominance by the Russian team as expected
Are you sure Fenton? I thought one hundred and eleven was a pretty good score, and certainly more than the evil Russkies fifty five. It was certainly good enough to give them a high scoring draw with Heinkel! ;)
Mollinary
;D ;D
Stewards enquiry!
BTW Sorry about today's post Leon. No offence meant. You know it's all done from great affection, and because I've seen the photos.
Well that's amazing! I've just read the news section of the Pendraken Gazette, (incorporating the Dark Lord News and Playtank) which is as always after the Readers Wives section (i.e where the spouses of forum members complain about the amount of time their husbands and partners spend painting and playing with Pendraken products - it's very funny) and I notice that Dave has produced a report and apparently, we're wrong.
There are no Leon clones. The muliplicity of Leons in due to the fact Leon started to divide into two spontanmeously. Dave has noticed that the process happens about once a month, and that during the process, the new Leons become just a tiny bit smaller. Obviously Dave is concerned and is desperately seeking a cure. Ever the eye for a chance, he has worked out that by mid 2017, there will be more than enough 10mm tall Leons for us all to throw away the metal and wargame with live Leons!
If he misses this deadline, Dave says that he will wait for another 2 years and then go into the 6mm market.
And I thought I was mad !
Superb....Keep 'em coming Matey....You brighten my day. :)
Cheers - Phil
This was the first thing I looked at when getting into work tonight! :)
This is brilliant, if more than a little mad. Perhaps the fact that we all like it so much indicates we "the flash from the Pendraken mould" are all less than sane.
I am sure I will be singing the wrong words to 12 days of Christmas this now due to FSN, or is that actually the correct version. :-\
Quote from: Just a few Orcs on 12 December 2013, 07:51:34 PM
This was the first thing I looked at when getting into work tonight! :)
You go into work just to read up on the Pendraken Forum? Nice work if you can get it....
Oh, and I refer you all to my strapline below.
Quote from: Hertsblue on 13 December 2013, 09:06:47 AM
You go into work just to read up on the Pendraken Forum? Nice work if you can get it....
Aye, it's not too bad... :D
Not in work today, having a day off. Was roused from my torpor by the postman and my next door neighbour having a game of tig in the street. The postie was obviously "it", and was being chased with great gusto by the neighbour. They were obviously quite surprised when I opened the door to see what was going on. The postman was quite red in the face, and puffing so badly I was afeared for his health, and couldn't understand him when he panted out what I took to be some cheerful greeting, and thrust yet another Pendraken package in my hand.
What have we here? Another branch sitting assassin, the usual duo of Zouave buffoons, and the trio of hirsute Gallic automatic weapons carriers. Four paints – actually varnishes. The label says "Aromatic Varnish. Makes you armies smell authentic!" Excellent. We have "Unwashed crotch", "Cheesy Feet", "Drying Vomit" and "Halitosis". That's pleasant. It says "This Range is with acknowledgement to all the people who visited us at shows in 2013". Now isn't that nice? The note says they're looking to expand the range – "suppurating wound", "dysentery" and "gangrene" are in the offering, as are "horse sweat", "elephant dung" and "camel toe". I think we'd all like to get our noses into that.
There's also the five figures from the Top Totty ranges. What have we today? Ah! They seem to be cavalry figures, as their legs are splayed, no hope of standing unaided, but there are no horses. Perhaps they come separately. Actually these are rather wild looking figures, barbaric, wearing very little as per usual a brief skirt and an abbreviated top – perhaps they're meant to be cavewomen? They'd look rather splendid riding bears. What does the label say? Oh! My mistake. They're from the "Essex Girls" range. They're not meant to be on horseback, nor indeed standing.
Moving on, 6 more Ausberg gunners, and the Sea Jeeps – the more I look at it, the more I'm sure that's Leon driving – and here's something new. It's eight female regicides, all with a different weapon from a dagger to a bazooka like weapon. This one is quite charming, I think it's meant to have a vial of poison, or it could be a magic potion. There's one with two swords, very balletic; a chain like weapon, mace (far too large for the figure's spindly arms), spear, and finally a crossbow. Excellent range.
So, for this eighth gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me, 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.
I've already opened the advent calendar today. It was an odd little figure. Looked like a dungheap, but you could see in it a little trapdoor, and just peeping out was a bearded face. This unusual little offering represents the capture of Saddam Hussein on 13th December 2003.
From the bag today, I've pulled a book. This is a story book, one of those ones where you tell the printer the name of the person you're giving it to, and they print it with that name through the story. Rather sweetly, this one has my name on it, so it's called "FSN in Pendrakenland". Shall I read you a bit?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FSN was feeling very tired. He had been painting Pendraken 10mm WWII British Paratroopers (codes BR10 to BR17) all day and he'd nearly finished. He looked through his magnifying glass at his work.
"How curious!" FSN exclaimed. "It looks as if one of the figures is waving to me!" FSN peered harder and harder, and became more and more convinced that one of the little men was waving at him. It seemed to FSN that the more the paratrooper waved, the closer he seemed to get. FSN leaned closer to the magnifying glass to get a better look. Closer and closer until *pop* FSN was through the glass lens and falling.
"A body falls from rest with an acceleration of 32 feet per second, per second." Thought FSN. "That means that in the first second I fell 32 feet, the second 64 feet and the third 96 feet. So in the first three seconds I would have fallen ..." At that point FSN hit the table. He felt sure there were serious injuries. He wasn't quite sure where his spleen was, but he was sure it had moved and probably ruptured in the landing.
"Frolicking student Cant." Said a voice. FSN wiped the blood from his eyes and started around him. The little figure that had been waving stood over him, but now he seemed quite tall, as tall as FSN himself.
"Did you just call me a frolicking student Cant?" Asked FSN politely.
"I did." Confirmed the paratrooper. He carried a Sten gun which marked him out as a BR11.
"What's a Cant?" FSN was trying to set his left leg, which lay at the unnatural angle he'd read about in many a murder mystery book.
"A Cant is an Italian aircraft. The Cant Z1007 Alcione, or Kingfisher" the paratrooper added helpfully, "was a three engined medium bomber used by the Regia Aeronautica from 1938 to about 1943." The figure scratched his chin.
"But, "he said expansively, "I was not, in fact, comparing you to a giddy Italian medium bomber in education."
"Really?" replied FSN. By now, he was sure that he had collected his major organs and that most of his limbs were somewhat back to normal. Just the massive blood loss to worry about. The paratrooper continued to stare dispassionately down at him, but had taken to scratching the back of his neck in desultory fashion.
"Nah." He confirmed. "It's a kid's book innit! I can't frolicking swear. The words are automatically edited with something close, but harmless."
"I see." FSN had stood up, and was experimenting with walking. He walked in circled until he realised that his left foot was the wrong way round. He bent to fix it.
"Frolicking student Cant." He repeated under his breath, until the penny finally dropped and he grasped the true meaning of his companion's word.
"You tweet!" he exclaimed. Being robbed of one's ability to give vent to good old fashioned invective was going to be right frolicking irritating.
"Language!" Admonished the para. "My name's Bert, and you're FSN, the bar stand that frolicked up my paint job." FSN studied the figure. This close up the paint did seem to be a little erratic in its application. The Denison smock was, FSN could see, totally the wrong shade in base coat, with huge and garish blotches added, and one of Bert's hands went half way up his arm where FSN's flesh paint had been carelessly applied. Not only that, but Bert's face started at the back of his head and ended somewhere near his nose.
"I'm sorry." Said FSN, "but things look at lot different from up there." He pointed to the magnifying glass that loomed over them.
"You know the chaps down here don't half moan when you appear in that thing."
"I do my best."
"Do your best! Your brushes are a disgrace, your never clean them properly, and they do makes sizes smaller than a 2 you know." Bert was becoming quite animated.
"I'm sorry ... " Began FSN, but Bert cut him off rather rudely.
"And you never stir the paint properly. Look at my right leg. It's almost glossy because you didn't stir the paint properly."
"The varnish will help there."
"Varnish! I've seen your frolicking attempts at frolicking varnishing. Satin! Satin! Blokes who've had it done feel like a right box of nonsense." FSN's lower lip began to tremble at the onslaught.
"And as for this frock you've put on me ..."
"Frock?"
"Frock! Frocking! Frock! The little green particles." Bert was almost incandescent with rage. He lifted his head and shouted at the sky.
"Frock. It's OK to say Frock. It's a material used in basing." He waved at where his feet should have been, and FSN had to agree that the frock had indeed reached Bert's knees. How could he have been so careless?
"Frock! Frock! Frocking! Frock! Look it up in the dictionary!" Bert continued to vent his wrath at the invisible editors. "Come on! Frock! Frocking! Frock! Flock! Flocking! Flock! At last. Anyway, about this flocking ..." FSN had had enough. He began to cry.
"Oh! I wish I could go home! I wish, I wish, I wish I could be on the other side of the magnifying glass where I belong."
"Boo-frolicking-hoo. Dry your tears Mary." Bert, considered FSN, had not a trace of fellow feeling. "And I wish I could frolicking swear properly." FSN brightened. This narrative structure was not unfamiliar to him.
"Perhaps there's someone we can go to, someone who could help us! We'd have to undertake a perilous journey and some of you might die a horrible death, but I, as the hero am bound to achieve my goals and hence achieve redemption." Bert looked around uncertainly. He was the only 'you' in view.
"Well, "he began, scratching his chin with his enormous hand. "We could go and see the Marder."
"The Marder? Is he some kind of magician?"
"More of a tank hunter that has caught the public's attention in the world of entertainment, but, " Bert snapped his fingers.
"Never mind, they'll glue back on." Said FSN kindly, "Do continue."
"But," said Bert, "the Marder must be able to get beyond the magnifying glass, he has family in Liverpool." FSN's heart sank. He knew what was coming.
"There's the door to door salesman – Marder Someoneatthedoor, the one that provides bathroom products – Marder snobogroll and the medic – Marder sagrowthonmythingy." FSN sighed.
"Didn't you forget the showgirl – Lady Marder-Lade?" He offered.
"You don't half speak Rolex!" Ejaculated Bert.
"Well that's interesting." Mused FSN. "They will apparently allow advertising, and 'ejaculated' is also fine."
"We're getting a bit self referential aren't we? Perhaps we should introduce a new element to move what passes for a plot along?" Prompted Bert. At that moment, FSN became aware of a wriggling sensation where his left kidney ought to be. He reached around and detached something. It was a golden fish.
"Hmm." Said Bert, non-committally. "I wasn't expecting that."
"What kind of fish is it?" FSN was peering down at the fish, which seemed inn no ways perturbed to be out of water. "A cod, or perhaps a stickleback?"
"You know frolic all about fish do you?" Bert yawned and stretched his arms to show his superiority in matters piscine. "It's has cod-like elements I'll grant you, but I think you'll find that's a ling."
"Indeed." FSN started the ling in the face. It winked back, which was strange because most fish don't have eyelids. "It is a singular fish, but I don't see how it helps us." He sat and cradled the fish his arm and began cooing a piscine lullaby.
"I must take this precious Ling to Marder!" declared FSN, baring his teeth.
"You're overdoing it on the Marder puns aren't you?" Asked Bert.
"I have tried to stop, but I suppose I'll have to try Marder." Said FSN, not a little shamefaced.
"You've already used that one – "Die, Marder" – remember?" FSN nodded a guilty little nod. "Be grateful you didn't pick Nashorn."
"Bless you." They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, until FSN thought they would be better getting underway.
"Which way do we go?" He asked, looking around. Bert pointed to their feet.
"We follow the yellow plastic road."
"Follow the yellow plastic road?" Echoed FSN gleefully.
"Do not start. Be warned. Travelling the yellow plastic road is often dangerous."
"Are there lions, and tigers and bears? Oh boy!" Bert smacked him slightly harder than playfully on the back of the head.
"No. The yellow brick road is reversible. Turn it over and it becomes a river. Lost some good mates last year 'cos some frolicker left the road the wrong way up." He glared at FSN. "Wasn't you was it?" FSN shook his head in what he hoped was a convincing manner, and also to clear the after effects of Bert's friendly pat.
"Shall we link arms, skip and sing a merry song whilst we travel along the yellow plastic road?" He asked brightly.
"You try and I'll shave my fast up your stoat."
So without linking arms, or skipping, Bert and FSN set out on the Yellow Plastic Road. As they walked, FSN began to sing an appropriate song ...
"So it's goodbye Yellow Brick Road,
Where the dogs of society howl,
Can't keep me in your penthouse,
I'm going back to my plough."
"I had you more of a Judy Garland than an Eltham Joan. Either way you're a bit of a posse." Commented Bert, shouldering his Sten.
=O =O =D> =D>
Excellent!
Very good ;D ;D
Bit disappointed you didnt a model of the Graf Spee in your advent calender though
;D ;D ;D =D> =D> =D>
Cheers - Phil
Saturday. Stayed in bed late today, for I've had a stressful week. Was woken at some unspeakable hour by a constant hammering at my front door which I chose to ignore by pulling a pillow over my head. Must have been the postman, for when I arose and peeked out my window, I perceived that the stout postie had entrusted yet another Pendraken package to my next door neighbour, who being a conscientious type, had attached it to the collar of a large uncouth dog to be guarded until I chose to retrieve it.
I breakfasted first, and my meal was disturbed by a most awful noise. I meandered to my front window to hush the disturbers of my weekend, to be greeted by the sight of the little old lady next door rolling around in a most undignified manner with the dog, obviously in some rough and tumble play which one would have suspected was beyond her years. I rushed out, bucket of water in hand, but all was well. The Pendraken package had fallen from the canine brute and lay safely on the pavement. I took it in and left the little old lady to her entertainment.
I carelessly ripped open the package, mentally noting that this, the ninth I had received in so many days, was considerably larger than the first. I was no surprised to notice my old nemesis - the tree with the idiot grinning out of it, and the perishing Zouaves and those Free French, who I am quite sure now bear an inane grin which was not there in the first specimens I encountered nearly a week ago.
The four pots of paint are always an interesting little voyage of discovery. Today's were from the "Music" range: "Pink!", "Deep Purple", "Deacon Blue" and a garish and unpleasant orange which is oddly titled "Simply Red". May just be mis-labelled.
The next out the bag was the one I look most forward to and that's the Top Totty Ranges. I like to see if I can guess the range name, and I must confess today's was most perplexing. There were just five scantily glad females, lovely sculpts as always (They had to be Clib's work), absolute perfections, clad in various brief efforts at clothing, and standing in casual poses. No weapons, no distinguishing articles of clothing and no elongated ears or other bodily deformity to mark them as being of another race. I couldn't guess the range name, so I gave up and looked at the label. "Tattooed ladies." Well, you couldn't make it up.
More of these LoA gunners. I may just have to melt these down for spite, and Seeps, which upon reflection are probably not that useful, and it's definitely not Leon driving. Eight more of the female regicides, this time with a more up to date armoury: pistols, sub machine guns, sniper rifles. Super figures! (Clib, these must be your work.)
Now, the new element in this relentless Pendraken bombardment is very unusual. It's, well I'm not sure where it fits into the Pendraken catalogue. There are nine mounted figures, all armed with lances. They could possibly be Spanish Guerillas, for their dress is of the Regency, but they're exceptionally well dressed, stiff collars, tight breeches, beautiful calf-length boots – perhaps some kind of weird duel on horseback. There you have it, nine dandies lancing.
To the advent calendar. The note says that on the 14th December 1542 – Princess Mary Stuart became Mary, Queen of Scots. So this will be a personality figure surely – indeed it is! Mary in her Tudor dress, amazing detail for a 10mm figure ... but dear me, Pendraken will have to get the packaging right. It's broken. The head has just fallen off. What a pity.
Now, I was going to describe the Pendraken 10mm Centurions with added radio control, but decided instead to read to you a bit more of FSN in Pendrakenland.
You'll remember that FSN has fallen through the magnifying glass and met Bert and ... just read the previous post.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After they had walked for quite a while, FSN noticed a figure in the distance. He quickened his pace, leaving Bert to amble on his own. The figure proved to be a forlorn little character dressed in denim and with a bass guitar strapped to his back. He was sitting on the road staring into nothing.
"Hello." Said FSN. For he was a people person.
"Mmmmm mmm mmmmmm." Replied the figure. As he looked up, FSN could see that the figure's mouth was painted over. His whole lower face was denim! FSN could not but step back in horror!
"I see you've met Lemmy." Bert observed. "Supposed to be a rock star, but some tweet couldn't hold a paint brush steady." Bert glared at FSN as if it was his fault. "Being a singer that can't sing. It's driven him a bit potty."
"So what do you call him?" Said FSN expectantly.
"Lemmy."
"So, Lemmy wants to sing." FSN stroked his Chin. The Chinese warrior tutted loudly and left the story. "You Bert, want to swear and I want to get home." An idea struck him. "Come with us Lemmy to the Marder. He'll give us all that we want!" Lemmy looked from FSN to Bert.
"Mmm mmmmm mmmmm mmm?"
"No mate, I wouldn't. You'd probably just break your bass on his thick head."
FSN's spirits were lifted by his new companion. He began to sing
"B-B-B-Benny and the Jets ..."
"Mmmm mmmm mmmmmmmm mmmm?" Lemmy asked Bert.
"Yup, the whole album. When he gets to 'Grey Seal' I'm going to Clib him to deaf with the bat of my Sten."
They trio walked on, Lemmy refusing with mime show to join FSN in his rendition of a selection of ditties from Eltham Joan's classic album. Suddenly, FSN stopped and raised his arm in the clenched fist "stop" hand gesture he's seen in so many films. Bert and Lemmy passed him.
"Wait!" Called FSN urgently. "Can you hear that?"
"Mmmm?" Asked Lemmy.
"Coconuts!" Bert addressed the sky.
"Can he say that?" He shrugged when no sign proved contrariwise. The pause allowed him to feel a faint beat through his flock clad feet.
"Get off the road!" He commanded. FSN ran to the side, the last few feet covered in an inelegant Commando roll. Bert sauntered after him.
"What is it?" Hissed FSN?
"Horses coming." As he spoke, the road ahead was filled with black riders on black horses. They galloped down the yellow plastic road heedless of any who stood in their path, silent and impassive.
"Who are they?" Asked FSN.
"They're from Middle-Borough. Bought on a whim by a Pendraken forum member after watching one of them Peter Jackson films, full of good intent. They're known as the Riders on Ronan"
"Why are they so dark and silent? Are they evil incarnate?"
"No," said Bert solemnly, "they're just – " he choked - "undercoated. Doomed to be shut away in a box and never to see a top coat. It's inhuman. "
The Riders of Ronan passed by. They looked neither to left nor right, nor did they speak. The noise of the hooves rose and then dies as the long column passed, leaving an ominous bundle on the yellow plastic road. FSN felt fear clutch at him, he put the back of his hand to his mouth in the way that 1940's screen goddesses used to show shock and horror.
"Lemmy!" He cried. He and Bert looked at each other.
"Oh my cod, they've killed Lemmy!"
It was a dejected FSN that resumed the trudge along the yellow plastic road. He even stopped singing. He walked alone, deep in thought, oblivious of his surroundings. Eventually some primeval instinct, or the toe of Bert's boot, brought him back to awareness.
"What's the matter?" Asked FSN.
"Mmmm mmm mmmmm mmmm." Said Lemmy. FSN stared at him then shook his head.
"Nope, didn't understand a word."
"He said," Bert offered himself as translator, "that the terrain's getting a bit ... "
"Mmmm" prompted Lemmy. Bert looked at him.
"Foresty. Is that actually a word?" FSN looked around and indeed the sides of the yellow plastic road were being encroached by trees. Tall trees, small trees, trees in blossom, trees covers in snow. Palm trees stood by cherry trees and trees of an indeterminate genus stood by pine cones painted green.
"Is it dangerous?" Asked FSN.
"How the frolic should I know? Just watch the firs for snipers." Retorted Bert, but all the same he chocked his Sten, and Lemmy took his bass from his shoulder.
"Mmm mmm mmmmmm!" Muggled Lemmy, pointing. FSN followed the point and saw a figure crouched behind a polystyrene boulder. FSN was surprised he hadn't noticed him before for the figure wore a very bright red shirt that stood out like a HO/OO British Hussar in a 10mm Liby-Phoenecian line up.
"Hello there!" called FSN.
"Frolic it! You saw me." The speaker in the flaming red shirt wore a neat, slicked hairstyle and black trousers blousoned into short boots.
"Come over here, we won't hurt you!"
"That's what they said on Tars Ceti Three. Twelve of them beamed down – the Captain, the First Officers, the Doctor and nine blokes in red shirts. Who came back, the Doctor, the First Officer and his highness the frolicking Captain, who'd obviously snagged some local top E whilst he was down there. Bar stand."
"Oh! That is a tale of woe." FSN sympathised. "We're not going to hurt you." There was a click as Bert unchecked his Sten, and a muffled yell as he caught his finger in the notoriously fickle safety.
"That's OK. That'll glue back on." The red shirted figure approached cautiously. His head was cocked, as if listening.
"No music. It should be safe enough."
"I'm FSN, and this is Bert and that is Lemmy." Bert stared back at the newcomer without interest, but Lemmy waved a friendly hand.
"Give me that back!" Snapped Bert.
"That's OK. It'll glue back on." Said FSN.
"I'm Red Shirt."
"Yes, we've got the unsubtle references, but what's your name?"
"Red Shirt. My parents Mr and Mrs Shirt named their son, me, Red."
"Oh. An extreme case of nominative determinism. That's where your name determines what job you will do. Like Mr Bun the baker, Mr Robin Bar Stand becoming a banker or Mr DeepSeaTrawlerman working in an office." Said FSN primly showing off his erudition.
"Mmmmm mmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmm mmmmmmm mmm mmm mmm m mmmmmm mmm!" Added Lemmy. Bert and Red laughed.
"Very good, Lemmy, and so true." Chuckled Bert, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. FSN glared at Lemmy.
"So, Lemmy wants to get his voice back, Bert wants to swear and I want to get back home to the other side of the magnifying glass. I suppose you want to get back to your ship, Red?"
"Frolic that! I just want a different colour of shirt. There were 132 of us security men on board when we joined at Theta Irisia Beta Beta Chopstick One. Last time I looked there were four of us left. No, I'm not going back there in a hurry."
"Then come with us!" FSN exclaimed. Bert and Lemmy moaned softly. "We're going to see the Marder, I have to take the precious ling to Marder. So precious, the Ling." He began to sing a fishy lullaby.
"My precious Ling goes ting-a-ling-a-ling,
He's as good as gold-fish,
A tail-fin I'll sing a-ling-a-ling
On porpoise, though it rubbish."
"Are we going to do fish puns now?" Asked Bert laconically.
"Later I think." Said FSN decisively. He faced Red.
"Come with us, the Marder will make your shirt a different colour. What colour would you like?" He patted the scarlet soldier on the shoulder as they resumed their progress.
"I was thinking that sort of blue-grey, the mustard wouldn't suit my complexion, but maybe I'll go totally off uniform and maybe go Deep Purple from the new Pendraken Music range?"
So FSN and Red talked about Red's new shirt and Bert and Lemmy trudged on behind, and all the while the road got forestyer and forestyer. Suddenly, Red stopped dead in his tracks, for in front of them had appeared a band of warriors. They were magnificently clad in feathers and ornate head dresses, their elaborate outfit suggested the furs of jaguars and a little more campness than was strictly necessary, but the sticks with bits of stone in them that they carried looked like they could hurt a lot – maybe even bruise.
Bert chocked his Sten. Lemmy unslung his bass. Red pulled a weapon from his belt.
"Is that some sort of phaser laser weapon that can kill or stun depending upon setting?" Asked FSN, showing her erudition again.
"No, it's ... actually could you put that away, it's distracting? No, it's more in the way of a torch that may make them blink really hard." Replied Red. By now more of the fierce, foppish looking warriors had emerged behind the travellers.
"They look like the Uta-uta of Everton Two Arsenal 1." Said Red, clutching his torch in an unrealistically sweaty hand.
"They look like ... Aztecs!" FSN snapped his fingers, safely. Bert was disappointed he couldn't use the "glue back on" line. FSN turned to his companions excitedly.
"It's OK chaps! This is Pendrakenland, and there's no such things as Aztecs in Pendrakenland so they must be a hallucination! All we have to do is ignore them and they can't hurt us."
"Mmmm mmm mmmm mmmmm." Pointed out Lemmy.
"Right, at Grey Seal." Affirmed Red. FSN stood square in front of the lead Aztec.
"You don't exist, you don't exist, " he chanted, and closing his eyes, walked on. After a few paces he tripped and fell headlong, but was unpierced by any sharpened stone. He scrambled to his feet to be joined by Bert and Red but Lemmy lay on the road, his noble breast struck through by an obsidian arrow.
"Oh my cod! They've killed Lemmy."
FSN yer chanty is well and truly chippet.
Why thank you!
You're very welcome
Does the mail come every day where you live FSN? Are you expecting a package on Sunday?
Well, I wouldn't be surprised!
I actually HAD my G&G Paintrack delivered on sunday :-\
All I can say is, we have been given proper warning:
Quote from: fsn on 10 April 2013, 04:05:33 PM
Thank you all for your warm welcome.
I apologise in advance for my future verbose postings.
Quote from: Shecky on 14 December 2013, 04:29:14 PM
Does the mail come every day where you live FSN? Are you expecting a package on Sunday?
You mean we get a day off? :D
What do you think? :d :d :d :d
My real worry, like the Great Escape and Miracle on 42nd Street on the telly, these same posts will reappear every Christmas
Quote from: Fenton on 14 December 2013, 08:00:53 PM
My real worry, like the Great Escape and Miracle on 42nd Street on the telly, these same posts will reappear every Christmas
I'm just glad it's on the forum.
Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window :o :o
Quote from: petercooman on 14 December 2013, 08:18:12 PM
I'm just glad it's on the forum.
Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window :o :o
This is meant to be the season of goodwill Peter...
NOT scare the crap out of me and give me nightmares everytime I hear footsteps outside the house season
Quote from: petercooman on 14 December 2013, 08:18:12 PM
Just imagine the shock when he comes knocking against your window :o :o
Don't think he'll bother me.....I don't do tanks ! ;) ;D
Hang on.....I can hear a tapping sou........................................
Quote from: Techno on 14 December 2013, 08:26:10 PM
Don't think he'll bother me.....I don't do tanks ! ;) ;D
Hang on.....I can hear a tapping sou........................................
Haven't Byzantines been mentioned recently?
Shhhhhhh.... :-$ I'm hiding under the table X_X
Quote from: Fenton on 14 December 2013, 08:25:33 PM
This is meant to be the season of goodwill Peter...NOT scare the crap out of me and give me nightmares everytime I hear footsteps outside the house season
As long as you hear footsteps it's fine, but when you hear the clang and rumble of a centurion, be VERY afraid :-t
Anyone know where the satnav is in this Cent?
Next to the juicer
Which is only in Mark V upwards. Just lower right of the kettle and teabags :D
Does the Mark V have the promised Chocolate Hob Nob holder? or did it get left out due to cutbacks?
Well it's a Sunday, and you would have thought it would have been Pendraken free, but no! Every day is a Pendraken day in the house! Besides, I was on my way out when I was accosted by a ragged figure. I first betook him to be some vagrant or vagabond, and gripped the stick I hold for such purposes more tightly. However, as he neared, I beheld his sack and took him to be the Postie. What dedication privatisation has instilled in these fellows! The chaps and indeed chapesses I have always taken to be noble and cheerful creatures, despite some ill-chosen sartorial attempts in summer, but these last few days have shown me the true, indomitable spirit of the humble British Postman. So please join me in three "huzzahs" for the people who pop their packages into your boxes. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Sorry, I feel myself tearing up, and have not yet apprised you of the cause. The Postie explained that when leaving the sorting office yesterday he had noticed another package for me from Pendraken, and had camped outside my house until he could see me in person and place the package into my own hands. He wouldn't even accept the pound coin I thrust at him, and sped away no doubt to perform some other errand or good deed.
So what was contained therein? Tree, Zouave, Bren, paint ... from the "Impossible" range. We have "Black Watch Tartan", "Celtic Trousers", "1968 DPM", and "Maori tattoo". Might try some of that last on yesterday's tattooed ladies.
Which brings us to the 5 top totty. These are from the "beautiful, intelligent, self-sufficient and witty women who find wargaming an attractive feature in their men". Empty you would think, but not so. There's a nurse or surgeon in scrubs, a bespectacled beauty who may be a lawyer, a engineer in hard hat and ponytail, an intelligent looking one who may be a systems designer with laptop under arm, and a particularly beautiful and graceful creature fashioning castles out of clay. Hello Mrs. Fenton! Apparently Mrs Last Hussar was also going to be included in this range, but the photos she sent in to the designers will be the basis of a "Cosplay" range once the designers are back under control. Looking forward to that.
Six gurning gunners, seven Seeps with their grinning idiot drivers, eight she-regicides, this time with a multitude of blasters, blammers, lasers, bolt throwers and very large fiery swords.
More of the dandies lancing and today's addition is one that the fantasy fraternity would enjoy. There a full ten of these malevolent creatures, axes hefted in armoured fists, armour liberally covered in skulls and plumes descending from their all encompassing helmets. Reminds me of something out of Michael Moorcock's dark imagination.
For this tenth gift at Christmas, Pendraken sent to me, 10 Lords of Chaos, 9 dandies lancing, 8 maids to kill king, seven 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.
Getting a bit much now, isn't it?
So to the advent calendar. Quite a little speech to go with this one – "I have been troubled this day about a difference between my wife and he maid, Nell, who is a simple slut. Samuel Pepys 15th December 1661." Well, let's pop open the windows, and it's a pair of C17 figures – lovely work (Clib, is this yours?). One of the ladies is as you would expect, noble in full restoration dress. I take that to be Mrs Pepys, for the other must be Nell. She's dressed similarly, but the neckline has been pulled right down, and she's pulled up the front of her dress with one hand, whilst pointing to her person in invitation with the other. Rather shocking really!
I'm bored with the RC Centurions. Too much trouble to reload the guns. I was going to tell you about this complete range of pre-production British Napoleonics that was in my goody bag, but I think I'd rather read you some more from "FSN in Pendrakenland".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FSN, Bert, Lemmy and Red continued the trudge. The yellow plastic road had begun to ascend, and the trees were beginning to thin. FSN had sung his way through half of Eltham Joan's classic double album, but to the disappointment of his companions, had never begun "Grey Seal". He began the first few bars of "Social Disease".
"Mmmmm mm m mmmmmm" commented Lemmy.
"Yers. Third time I think. Will he never get to Grey Seal?" Wondered Bert.
"If I ever get to think his singing is good, please Clib me to deaf with the bat of your Sten." Added Red.
"Yers, and you could ... he looked at Red's torch .. get Lemmy to do the same for me."
"MmmMm mmMM!!!" Chipped in Lemmy.
"As always Lemmy, you put your finger right on the point." Fortunately, FSN had stopped singing. He knelt and gesticulated at his companions.
"What's he doing?" Asked Red.
"He thinks it's combat hand signs. He's a student Cant." Said Bert, acknowledging FSN's combat signs with some hand gestures of his own.
"A what?"
"MmmMMmm mmmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmm! Mmmmmm mmmm mm mmm mmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmm mmmmm."
"Oh! Italian. I thought it was nothing like the Cant Beasts of Duce Savoia Matchetti 79."
"You're frolicking making that up aren't you?" Bert was scornful.
"Seriously! I lost two good friends there. Beaten to death with a balsa wood club." Said Red defensively.
"Oooh! Nasty!"
"Mmmm mmmm!" Agreed Lemmy.
FSN stood atop a hill, gazing out over the landscape below. The ground ahead was as flat as a table, and the line of the yellow plastic road could be seen stretching out in a straight line ahead of them. A few buildings dotted the landscape; FSN could make out a Russian church, a French chateau and some snake fencing that could only have come from the good ole' US of A. To their left were a selection of terraced housing, to the right a castle was in ruins. Straight ahead FSN thought he could see a glow.
While he waited for the others to catch up, he took the golden ling from the special pocket in which he kept it. It blinked as he stroked it, and sang it a little ditty.
"I take my precious gold ling
to Marder for to sea
if he can send me homeward,
I won't carp if it can't be."
"Are we doing the fish puns?" Asked Bert, who had caught up.
"Mmmmm mmm m mmmm mmmm!" said Lemmy, and Bert and Red laughed.
"That's a good one!" Said Red, cleaning the front of his trousers.
"What's that over there?" Asked FSN, desperately trying to draw the conversation back on himself.
"How the frolic should I know?" growled Bert. "Every time you get to the top of a hill some bar stand changes the scenery below." Again, he eyed FSN accusingly.
"What are those?" FSN, desperate to change the direction of the conversation, pointed to the sky where some dark shapes wheeled, .
"Birds." Replied Bert.
"Are they savage eagles that might attack us?"
"No."
"Then what kind of birds might they be?" Said FSN, shielding his eyes from a non-existent sun.
"Do you have to talk like that?"
"Sorry. I did a lot of D&D in the '80s."
"Are they Keeley Hawks from Ashes Ashes 2?" Red had his torch in his hand and looked prepared to use it.
"No. They're auks." Bert was becoming frustrated with this obvious set up to a pun.
"There's not many of them ..." FSN began. Bert's fist tightened on his Sten.
"So you could say ..." Red continued.
"There's only a few seagulls." Bert completed and strode off down the yellow plastic road, Lemmy following close behind. Soon, he heard feet running behind him.
"Bert! Bert! In the sky!" FSN shouted urgently.
"It's just a few auks" said Bert, then mentally kicked himself for falling into the pun-trap.
"No, the other way." Bert turned, Sten ready. Sure enough, a second flock had appeared in the sky, and the auks had beaten a hasty retreat in the face of it.
"Are they Tony Hawks from Pro Skater 2?" Called Red breathlessly.
"You sure you don't make this carp up?" Replied Bert.
"Are we doing the fish puns now?" Asked FSN, nervously.
"No." Said Bert, flatly.
"Mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm." Said Lemmy.
"Flying monkeys. Why not?" Asked Bert through gritted teeth, and took to his heels. The quartet ran down the hill, towards a very convenient farm house, the flying monkeys in pursuit, their angry chattering and the beat of their bat-like wings getting nearer and nearer. Bert made it first into the house, and was vaguely disappointed that FSN was close behind him. Red dived in right behind FSN. Bert looked back. Lemmy was struggling, his lack of a mouth making breathing difficult, his little fat legs pounding across the green felt towards the house.
"Come on Lemmy!" yelled Bert, but all his encouragement was to no avail. The strap on Lemmy's bass broke and he tripped. The flying monkeys were on him in an instant, tearing, biting, ripping. In seconds they had done their evil work and flew off, satisfied, leaving an overly bloody corpse on the sward.
"Maybe he's all right?" Asked Red, hopefully. Bert shook his head.
"Oh my cod! They've killed Lemmy." Exclaimed Red. Bert was grateful that he had been spared that. He was less pleased when FSN launched into a rendition of "Funeral For a Friend."
"Grey Seal." He muttered. "Just get to Grey Seal."
They rested in the farmhouse for a while, and when they resumed their journey, FSN was in high spirits. His version of "Jamacia Jerk-off" was accompanied by some dance moves that cannot be adequately described.
The afternoon, or morning, was pleasant. They had passed into clear terrain and the going was easy. About a +2 Bert estimated.
"Mmmm mm." Said Lemmy, and sure enough a single rider approached.
"I think you're right." Said Bert. "It looks like him."
"Who? Who?" Asked FSN, theatrically squinting at the approaching figure.
"It looks like a ...." began Red, but Bert cut him off.
"It isn't any kind of made up creature from any made up world. He's well known in these parts, and it's a bit of a sad story."
"Do tell! Do tell!" Exclaimed FSN, clapping his hands and jumping on the spot.
"Oh! For Frolics sake! All right." Bert sat on the road and wished for a cigarette, but he hadn't any since such things became frowned upon in kid's books. "The bloke coming towards us is the sole survivor of .. " FSN had settled at Bert's feet and now raised his hand.
"No, that wasn't a fish pun. Do you want to hear this or not?" FSN nodded energetically. "Well, the bloke coming is Trooper Ouse of the 9th Madeup Hussars of Conflans. There used to be a whole regiment of them, and they made a brave sight. A few years ago, at Salute I think it was, they were part of a demonstration. Trooper Ouse was the lucky one, got knocked out by an unlikely throw of the dice from long range cannon fire. He was put in the casualties box. The rest of them, well, they all made it back to their own box, but it got left under the table at clear up time." His audience gasped their horror. "So Hussar Ouse there is the only one left."
"So he's a hussar," began FSN, beating a joke to death, " and he's the only one left. What do you call him?"
"Jacques."
"Jacques Ouse. Something Zola-esque in that name, with anti-anti-semitic overtones." Mused Red.
"I think you're the only one who was thinking that." Said FSN, unkindly.
By this time Hussar Jacques Ouse of the 9th Madeup Hussar of Conflans had approached within hailing distance.
"Hello!" Shouted FSN, cordially.
" 'jour." Replied the Frenchman, trotting on. FSN stared at his departing back.
"What an ignorant frolicking tweet!"
"Yes. He's always like that." Explained Bert.
"Mmmmmm mmm mm!" Put in Lemmy.
"Wise words, my friend, wise words." Bert clapped his friend on the shoulder and Red nodded in agreement.
"Oh come on. Let's get going." Said FSN, and off he stomped.
;D ;D ;D =D> =D> =D>
Cheers - Phil.
Brilliant.
Lets just hope the men in white coats don't take him away before he has finnished.
Don't know about you lot, but I'm really looking forward to the end.
Quote from: Just a few Orcs on 15 December 2013, 07:25:07 PM
Lest just hope the men in white coats don't take him away before he has finnished.
I think you made a mistake, I hope you don't mind that I've corrected it. :P
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...
Byzantines?
Quote from: Just a few Orcs on 15 December 2013, 07:25:07 PM
Brilliant.
Lets just hope the men in white coats don't take him away before he has finnished.
Pre 1866 Austrian infantry?
Quote from: fred 12df on 15 December 2013, 08:31:22 PM
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...
Usually I feel like i never shut up but I feel like a positive Trappist by comparison :)
Ah, but then again you probably have a life.
Quote from: fsn on 15 December 2013, 09:45:38 PM
Ah, but then again you probably have a life.
I do ... and I spend most of it talking
at to people!
Unfortunately, once I get home from work, I'm largely unable to get out again, so my social circle is msotly this forum.
HAH !!....I barely get out.....Which is why I enjoy the forum so much. :)
But I think most of you had sussed that out already ! ;D ;D ;D ;D
Cheers - Phil.
"Get two grips"
You called... ;)
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 07:14:34 AM
Unfortunately, once I get home from work, I'm largely unable to get out again, so my social circle is msotly this forum.
I'm a bit like that as well! Most of my friends live away from the area, so I only see them when they're home visiting.
Quote from: get2grips on 16 December 2013, 08:45:24 AM
"Get two grips"
You called... ;)
Wasn't that on the Christmas Cracker jokes on day 1? Do keep up.
Day 1?
It seems such a long time ago now...
Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 12:24:26 PM
Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?
No the band split before they released the second concept album
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 12:24:26 PM
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!
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?
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 11:53:38 AM
Wasn't that on the Christmas Cracker jokes on day 1? Do keep up.
I'm a slow reader :D
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.
;D ;D ;D ;D
How do you keep this up ?
Cheers - Phil
Quote from: fred 12df on 15 December 2013, 08:31:22 PM
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!!!! :D :D :D
Quote from: Techno on 16 December 2013, 08:12:45 PM
How do you keep this up ?
I think the bigger question is
why do I keep this up?
Haven't you all suffered enough?
I think it's catching fsn :o
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!!
Very good I. ;D ;D ;D
Cheers - Phil
Quote from: Ithoriel on 16 December 2013, 09:11:26 PM
I think it's catching fsn :o
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
Excellent stuff, sir!
=D> =D> =D>
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".
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 09:18:10 PM
Excellent stuff, sir!
=D> =D> =D>
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! :d :d
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Two minor points: Lemmey and "Mmmmm'mm mm mmmmm mmm!"
Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 08:34:22 PM
Haven't you all suffered enough?
No....Where's today's episode ?....You slacker ! :P ;)
Cheers - Phil.
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.
Brilliant FSN...
Glad I played a tiny, tinny part...
Have a great Xmas sir. :D
Quote from: mad lemmey on 17 December 2013, 09:11:52 PM
Brilliant FSN...
Glad I played a tiny, tinny part...
Have a great Xmas sir. :D
Oh I thought it was meant to be Lemmey from Motorhead
Oooooh....You fibber !...I never wrote that.... :o
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. :-bd
Quote from: fsn on 17 December 2013, 08:49:54 PM
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.
;)
They always do, my friend, they always do.
Quote from: fsn on 17 December 2013, 08:49:54 PM
I may even have one of my heads later
I knew it - you're Zaphod Beeblebrox! I'd know that silhouette anywhere! :D
Excellent, thank you for the entertainment! 8)
Quote from: Hertsblue on 18 December 2013, 10:21:22 AM
I knew it - you're Zaphod Beeblebrox! I'd know that silhouette anywhere! :D
;D
More like Worzel Gummige!
Quote from: fsn on 18 December 2013, 11:39:53 AM
;D
More like Worzel Gummige!
Which head then?
...Forum head?
...Painting head?
...Gaming head?
...Centurion head?
Oi've 'ad moi riting 'ead on fro so long now, it's stuck fast! I Needs to find moi paintin' 'ead.
Quote from: fsn on 19 December 2013, 09:44:51 AM
Oi've 'ad moi riting 'ead on fro so long now, it's stuck fast! I Needs to find moi paintin' 'ead.
Welcome to the forum Dick Van Dyke