Ice cream scoops. Cadbury's Twirl. Totty's best bits. What do they all have in common? They all give great joy as a twosome.

Today, I have found something that gives even greater pleasure than all of these. I came home today to find one of those little red Post Office cards, so hied me off to the sorting office. There I collected not one but two packages from Pendraken!

Two orders at once! My purchasing is usually geared to ensure that excitement overload does not result from the delivery of Pendraken goodliness. Man is not capable of dealing with so much muchness in one go.

So I sit with the two packages on the corner of my just-cleaned painting table, head in hand. Contemplating the plain brown temptation that sits before me. A tear runs down my cheek as I realise that this is probably a turning point in my life. Never before have I experienced so much concentrated expectation delivered in one go, in two unremarkable, commonplace objects.

And yet, however my inner child wishes to plunge in and tear apart these obstinate enigmas, I hesitate. To rip carelessly into the inner treasure would seem somehow a defilement, a casting aside of the ancient ritual and ceremony attendant with their preparation. Can I catch a whiff of smoke from the rude rush torches that give meager light to the stygian cave where the gnomish casters toil, all the while mumbling incantations to beg favour from the dark gods of liquid metal? Was the gnarled hand that made the crude characters that mark out my name more used to daubing sygils and runic wards in blood, held in a bowl made from a scraped skull? I place my hand on the box, and feel a strange warmth, as if some residual magic lurks inside, ready to be freed when I open the seals. Nervously, I separate the packages as far as possible, for some subconscious primitive fear that two Pendraken packages, placed together may bring together some mystic forces that may overturn reality as we know it, and replace it with some strange otherworld in which 10mm  is the scale of choice, in which wargaming is very attractive to 18-25 year old females, and in which Warhammer 40K never made it off the drawing board. Tempting.

It is with reverence that I resist. I feel the urge to undergo some ceremony of cleansing before I am worthy to open two gifts from the lesser gods. I am torn between anticipation and caution.

These two featureless shapes bring to my mind dark and wonderful thoughts. They will remain on the table until I have settled my mind to be able to carefully and gently open them.   

 

 

 

Have you shaken them to guess what is in each one?

 

Quote from: fred    12df on 28 May 2013, 05:52:54 PM
Have you shaken them to guess what is in each one?

No, no, no! To shake, to press, to prod would be to invite damage. Who would spit into the face of the Leon-Beast?

In the words of Jack Sparrow....

You need a girl mate

 
Cheers - Phil

The simple act of lifting each packet carefully to gauge it's weight will tell you which one has Keira in it, and which one the twenty Centurions.

See Nosher, he did get a girl. I hope.

What if it isn't two orders - it just one order split between two packets?

Not wanting to upset you or anything?

You must have opened them by now, or does the straitjacket make it difficult?

It was two orders. I have opened them and bathed in the silver gleam of Pendraken perfection. I have examined each perfect little beauty, awed at their microcosmic magnificence - fingers twitching over a serried rank of paint brushes, each straining to do their part to transform these new additions into members of the FSN family.

But, with great reluctance, I forgo the comforting ritual of washing, the beginning of the transformative process. I press the little gems to my chest and whisper thanks to those that provide.

In the back of my mind is that little sadness, the tiny fingers of emptiness that pinch my bliss. Indeed, I may have joy unbridled at these new releases, but I still lack. There are no Centurions. I love all my children, but I pine for those as yet undelivered.

Quote from: Nosher on 28 May 2013, 06:53:03 PM
In the words of Jack Sparrow....

You need a girl mate

Think you may be right.

Our resident bard waxes lyrical again !
Love it.....Wonderful stuff.
Cheers - Phil.

Lol 

  nice one, it's nice to get a box of  new shinny stuff but even better to get two,  . Got my LoA cav last friday and  painted them up yesterday , i must say they put a smile on my face, just need to base them now. Will be putting another order in this week as it's fast approaching my birthday. 

kev

 

One girl may not be enough at this stage.

Quote from: sebigboss79 on 29 May 2013, 08:57:06 AM
One girl may not be enough at this stage.

So it should be twenty Keira's and one Centurion? But it will be more difficult to tell which packet contains what. 

Nor sure about female company, fsn, but I've enetered you for the Booker Prize. Only another 59,500 words required. 

Nah Ray....

I can understand what FSN's saying.....He's got no chance !!
But it IS very, very entertaining !!
All power to his digits.

Cheers - Phil.

THERE WAS A THIRD TODAY!!!!

Surely the slave master at the subterranean forges of Middle Borough has been gifted with a new whip, for behold! I have received a third package today, scarce two seven-days after the supplication was made.

My excitement was tinged with a hint of relief. Two packages brought me to the very edge of having my soul emptied, three would surely have destroyed me completely! I feared the union of three - surely they would recall the Gods of the golden age - Guilder, Grant and Featherstone - and not even the creator god Wells would have been able to contain such a confluence of power.

I have spread the contents of all three over my painting table, carefully matching the code-runes to honour the immutable laws of order. They lie before me, a jumble of ranges, for the scout-orders had brought back samples from the great swathes of the Pendraken firmament. I reflect that they lie like fallen stars, near their neighbour but not the same. Each promising its own challenge and ultimate joy. A poke of boxes and phallic idols (which I think are stoves) keep distance from Keira, and I am careful to separate the water buffalo from the female beggars. To view them is to view a kaleidoscope of potential, to sense the proffered hand of creativity and invention (which in my case usually slaps me in the face).

The third package yields a different tale. Great heaps of Dark Age brightness. Hastings and Stamford Bridge and Harald and Herward lie unadorned in a great heap, solid and comforting in their completeness. Bullion bars amongst the jewels of their predecessors, they clump together as if trying to form shield wall even as they lie helplessly one atop the other. Brave warriors all. May they never be betrayed by Foul-Dice.   

It is all too much, and I shed a tear. To be so fortunate, to be able to be part of this universe within a universe. We, the Brotherhood of Pendraken, should count ourselves truly blessed that we may cast aside our day-cares and take to an otherworld where we may be general or paladin, champion or armoured warrior, ragged foot soldier or noble prince.

For this, I humbly and genuinely give thanks to the Green-finger Sages, the Artisans of Casting, the dark creatures that scurry busily in the shadows for fear of the light and most of all, the slave master and their new whip.