Dear BOYL PARTICIPANT
I just thought I'd write to say Thank You. With an upper case T. and Y, of course.
Thank You is one of those curious phrases that covers the frankly banal to the life changing, without changing much to account for it. It is a phrase of broad scope. It is fit for use when you're given your change at the kebab outlet and it is equally fit for use when you receive your knighthood. I presume - I've never had my nomination taken forward for that.
But enough about me! Let's talk about you some more.
To the community, I want to say Thank You. I consider BOYL to be a massive success. Chiefly, that would be down to there not being any knobbish behaviour. The Foundry was filled with gentlemen, scholars, Chico and even some ladies, who did a stirling job of not looking bored.
Thanks for granting your opponent the benefit of the doubt.
Thanks for asking before you picked up someone else's model.
Thanks for not dropping the model, or for fawning at the feet of the owner when you did.
Thanks for keeping the game going when the rules threatened to lock you up.
Thanks for answering the questions of the others around you.
Thanks for sharing your figures and your dice and your pens and your measuring tapes.
Thanks for making laser noises and silly voices as appropriate for events on your table.
Thanks for remembering the names of those you met last year.
Thanks for asking the names of those you didn't.
Thanks for taking accountability for the fun of the other players on your table.
Thank you.
There are special mentions, of course. There should always be special mentions. That's how you manipulate people into doing the same awesome thing next year, you see. I would encourage you to encourage them by also saying thank you.
So, to Antipixi - thank you. You stepped into the breach and made sense of the various games that were forming, choosing to organise them neatly on the forum for us - a huge help all round.
To Whiskey Priest - thank you. With such a powerful and terrifying voice as yours to command, we all sleep a little better at night knowing you use it only for the power of Good. Thanks for herding the oldhammerers together for the photo. And the scenery. F**k me, the scenery...
To Just John, Cheetor and TheOttoVonBismark, who no doubt had to endure withering stares from anti-terrorist police as you explained what exactly an ork was and why they might be lurking in your luggage. They crossed land and sea to join us, hailing from that other fair jewel, Ireland - thank you.
To Asslessman, who also crossed vast tracts of mother earth to engineer himself a table side seat in five separate games - thank you. A stirling guest, generous and polite and most, most welcome. And, through the selfless and admirable steering of the Killdozer 5000 to victory, he also enabled a dream for one stuck in the Antipodes, confounded by timezone, money and the selfish incapability of the human race to devise a working long range teleporter...
...which leads me to Captain Crooks! Unable to make the journey himself, he instead posted his models all the way to Asslessman and then proceeded to create high quality hand outs and suggestions for use in the Gorka Morka game. For all this he gets nothing but the faint fragrance of BOYL! 2014 on the base of the Killdozer. The ultimate GM - thank you.
To Citadel Collector, who besides supplying most of the artillery for the siege attackers, also allowed us all to gaze into the terrifying orifice of his asscannon, painted in the powerfully striking colours of black and white, supposedly in a nod to Malal, but no doubt actually just to make it hard to steal - thank you (and damn you!).
To Tony Yates. It's one thing to see your drawings. It's another to see you making drawings. On demand. Just for the sake of the thing. I know a lot of people commented on how good it was to talk to you, both whilst you drew and just as you wondered about. We look forward to your return next year - thank you.
To Wargames Foundry. For not being 'one of them'. I don't believe anyone experienced anything but warmth and generosity from the people of Foundry. At no point was there a 'them-and-us' feeling - which is why I've not separated you out in this note, you see. You lot were as much BOYL participants as the rest of us! To Martin, Shaun (Shawn? Sean?) and Rob - thank you.
To Kev Adams. For making the oldhammer goblin. Especially for us. Our own special event figure! For showing us your new greens and talking through the concepts - thank you.
To Diane and her team. I saw it mentioned somewhere on the blogosphere / internet and I believe it to be true - there is no wargames convention in the world that offers the same catering. Your team were courteous, patient and efficient. Dinner, again, was a huge hit - thank you.
To Marcus and Bryan. I don't believe you do know what you've enabled for us. I don't believe that understand the value of what you have made available to us as a community. I suspect you have an idea, of course. Like us, you have a love for toy soldiers. But it is more than that, you see. Perhaps you know what, but just not how much. Words, especially the Thank You ones, are unfortunately overwhelmed and spent when it comes to quantity. Still, thank you for being patient with us during the organisation. Thanks for making suggestions as you did, for providing the tables, the tent, the toilets, the parking, the lighting, the tours, the explanations of the moulding process, the figure cabinets. For the painting prizes - I think those took everyone by surprise! For the concept sketches and unreleased greens and the aluminium Mighty Fortress and the sphincter beasts. For inviting us back next year - thank you.
So there you are. Thirty expressions of gratitude, completely unfit for the job, but all I have to offer. I suspect that I speak for the entire Oldhammer community when I say it finally: Thank You.
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Friday, 25 July 2014
Ten Things. In some sort of order. A list, if you will...
You've probably seen this going around:
You know. Top 10 lists.
These are the things that the internet runs on, after all.
But, before you judge my response to be critical and sarcastic, of course, it serves a good purpose. For are we of the oldhammer movement not gripped by nostalgia? Reliving our childhoods under some maniacal delusion that somehow the things we craved as children are somehow more within our grasp now that we earn money? And what better way to relive that nostalgia than to see the blogosphere erupt with memories retold and hopes relived - sometimes even realised.
Also, it makes a nice change from trying to get some hobby work done in the baking, stagnant heat of our house (it's one of those, warm-in-summer and cold-in-winter varieties, you see). Unfortunately, I am not blessed to be a member of the teaching profession, and so must confine my painting activity to the evening, when I am tired.
Heat and exhaustion are not conducive to painting, it seems.
Now my list is really the top 10 miniatures that for whatever reason burned themselves into my consciousness as a youngster. I would drool over the catalogues trying to devise ways that I could get my hands on these things. Being out in South Africa at the time confounded the situation even more, what with the unfavourable exchange rate, import duties and the general opinion of the era that if boys weren't playing games that involved some kind of ball, they were clearly mentally defective or homosexual.
So, herewith a pleasant evening's distraction. It is worth noting that I have numbered the images, not because these are my preferred order or that one is more favoured than the other. This is simply so that you know how much more list you have to go, lest you are overcome with your emotions and must look away.
1. This is everything an orc is supposed to be. Stupid, menacing and a bit gormless.
I've got one of these.
2. I was one of those Tolkien Lord od the Rings sort of kids. In that line of fantasy, gunpowder weapons didn't feature. Imagine my surprise when games workshop not only suggested that goblins might have cannons, but that they would have the most awesomely irresponsible sort of cannon in the world - one with blades on the wheels and a ridiculous mortar on top. I have the perfect video of this weapon firing in mu head...
I've got one of these.
3. Again, another off the wall suggestion from GW - a stone thrower with a crew at rest, but also expressing their extreme hatred of goblins at the same time. Casual hate, if you like. Beautiful.
I don't have one of these yet.
4. Tolkiens fantasy and what little other fantasy I ended up with didn't include ratmen. I was initially skeptical about this race - I mean, really? Its a man-rat. Come-on.
But then one day, a friend of mine decided to play skaven (we played with cardboard, you see) - and he fielded something in the region of 600 skavenslaves (you can do that sort of thing with cardboard...). It was then that the way the army worked dropped into my thick skull and I was hooked.
Alas, I never had (and don't really have it now) the money to pursue the skaven, but I always, always wanted this figure. He just says control.
I've got one of these.
5. I remember when I first saw the Red Catalogue. This dude was on the front. Or maybe the back. I submit that he was quite obvious, at any rate. I had no real idea what chaos was and I actually thought this was some sort of 40k orc. Again, from my constrained Tolkien line of fantasy, I hadn't quite wrapped my mind around the idea of orcs with guns - but this guy? He was the gateway drug.
I've got one of these.
6. So if you can imagine me not quite getting orcs with guns, you can imagine my scorn at this ridiculous thing. Some kind of machine-horse? Really?
But I couldn't let it go. I would stare at this thing for hours in the catalogue, trying to work it out. Trying to make sense of it. In doing so, it moved from my all out worst-idea-for-a-figure-ever to one of my all time favourites. What a bloody good idea!
I have seven of these. I could really do with an eighth, if you have one lying around.
7. Chaos Knights. F**king love 'em. I remember running through the catalogue and stopping because of just how big these guys were. And the horses! Proper, big, scary horses. When I had laid my hands on Warhammer Armies, I was quick to determine that five of these buggers would make a massive dent in an army list without making a massive dent in my budget. How I longed to have enough money for 5 of these guys...
...twenty years later? I have five of these.
8. I was in a bit of a quandary about the beastmen, to be honest. But in the end, because of the amount of time I spent staring at the three or four pages of beastmen in the catalogue, I decided to include them. Again, to a child's mind, the idea of paying ten points for a W2 WS4 figure just completely blew my mind. How could it be? How was this possible? And they could have chaos mutations? I specifically remember marking all the ones that weren't goat like in the catalogue, trying to work out how few would be left and if one could make a viable unit of the remnants.
Curiously, I only have one of these now - the others have traded for other things I'd rather have.
9. Marauder Longbeards. The whole range, but specifically this one. Because dwarves don't have to use axes and hammers, Games Workshop. Get over yourselves, arseholes. And if Skaven can somehow wrap their idiotic minds around the spears-in-tunnels conundrum, then so can dwarves. Arseholes.
I don't have any of these any more. Alas, how I miss them!
10. Stone Trolls. I think the real testament to these figures is the considerable length of time they've been in production. These guys started my off on my first goblin horde - I loved the idea of the really little guys and the really bug guys forming a force - especially the idea of goblins trying to goad stupid trolls into combat.
I used to have six of these, but they've all been traded to grow my collection in other directions. I love the figures and I think they were really important in GW's history, but curiously, I have no desire to own them again. Well, okay, maybe a little bit.
Okay, a lot!
So there is a brief trip through my nostalgia. You'll note that the Red and Green catalogues are broadly the only ones featured, so you can tell exactly when I got into the hobby. There are loads of other amazing figures for so many reasons, but these ten - these are the ones I'd drool over, imagining them in my armies and coveting them in others' armies.
It remains to say thanks to those who have posted this up - one of the most pleasant little wanders I've had through the past in a long while. Cheers, all!
You know. Top 10 lists.
These are the things that the internet runs on, after all.
But, before you judge my response to be critical and sarcastic, of course, it serves a good purpose. For are we of the oldhammer movement not gripped by nostalgia? Reliving our childhoods under some maniacal delusion that somehow the things we craved as children are somehow more within our grasp now that we earn money? And what better way to relive that nostalgia than to see the blogosphere erupt with memories retold and hopes relived - sometimes even realised.
Also, it makes a nice change from trying to get some hobby work done in the baking, stagnant heat of our house (it's one of those, warm-in-summer and cold-in-winter varieties, you see). Unfortunately, I am not blessed to be a member of the teaching profession, and so must confine my painting activity to the evening, when I am tired.
Heat and exhaustion are not conducive to painting, it seems.
Now my list is really the top 10 miniatures that for whatever reason burned themselves into my consciousness as a youngster. I would drool over the catalogues trying to devise ways that I could get my hands on these things. Being out in South Africa at the time confounded the situation even more, what with the unfavourable exchange rate, import duties and the general opinion of the era that if boys weren't playing games that involved some kind of ball, they were clearly mentally defective or homosexual.
So, herewith a pleasant evening's distraction. It is worth noting that I have numbered the images, not because these are my preferred order or that one is more favoured than the other. This is simply so that you know how much more list you have to go, lest you are overcome with your emotions and must look away.
1. This is everything an orc is supposed to be. Stupid, menacing and a bit gormless.
I've got one of these.
2. I was one of those Tolkien Lord od the Rings sort of kids. In that line of fantasy, gunpowder weapons didn't feature. Imagine my surprise when games workshop not only suggested that goblins might have cannons, but that they would have the most awesomely irresponsible sort of cannon in the world - one with blades on the wheels and a ridiculous mortar on top. I have the perfect video of this weapon firing in mu head...
I've got one of these.
3. Again, another off the wall suggestion from GW - a stone thrower with a crew at rest, but also expressing their extreme hatred of goblins at the same time. Casual hate, if you like. Beautiful.
I don't have one of these yet.
4. Tolkiens fantasy and what little other fantasy I ended up with didn't include ratmen. I was initially skeptical about this race - I mean, really? Its a man-rat. Come-on.
But then one day, a friend of mine decided to play skaven (we played with cardboard, you see) - and he fielded something in the region of 600 skavenslaves (you can do that sort of thing with cardboard...). It was then that the way the army worked dropped into my thick skull and I was hooked.
Alas, I never had (and don't really have it now) the money to pursue the skaven, but I always, always wanted this figure. He just says control.
I've got one of these.
5. I remember when I first saw the Red Catalogue. This dude was on the front. Or maybe the back. I submit that he was quite obvious, at any rate. I had no real idea what chaos was and I actually thought this was some sort of 40k orc. Again, from my constrained Tolkien line of fantasy, I hadn't quite wrapped my mind around the idea of orcs with guns - but this guy? He was the gateway drug.
I've got one of these.
6. So if you can imagine me not quite getting orcs with guns, you can imagine my scorn at this ridiculous thing. Some kind of machine-horse? Really?
But I couldn't let it go. I would stare at this thing for hours in the catalogue, trying to work it out. Trying to make sense of it. In doing so, it moved from my all out worst-idea-for-a-figure-ever to one of my all time favourites. What a bloody good idea!
I have seven of these. I could really do with an eighth, if you have one lying around.
7. Chaos Knights. F**king love 'em. I remember running through the catalogue and stopping because of just how big these guys were. And the horses! Proper, big, scary horses. When I had laid my hands on Warhammer Armies, I was quick to determine that five of these buggers would make a massive dent in an army list without making a massive dent in my budget. How I longed to have enough money for 5 of these guys...
...twenty years later? I have five of these.
8. I was in a bit of a quandary about the beastmen, to be honest. But in the end, because of the amount of time I spent staring at the three or four pages of beastmen in the catalogue, I decided to include them. Again, to a child's mind, the idea of paying ten points for a W2 WS4 figure just completely blew my mind. How could it be? How was this possible? And they could have chaos mutations? I specifically remember marking all the ones that weren't goat like in the catalogue, trying to work out how few would be left and if one could make a viable unit of the remnants.
Curiously, I only have one of these now - the others have traded for other things I'd rather have.
9. Marauder Longbeards. The whole range, but specifically this one. Because dwarves don't have to use axes and hammers, Games Workshop. Get over yourselves, arseholes. And if Skaven can somehow wrap their idiotic minds around the spears-in-tunnels conundrum, then so can dwarves. Arseholes.
I don't have any of these any more. Alas, how I miss them!
10. Stone Trolls. I think the real testament to these figures is the considerable length of time they've been in production. These guys started my off on my first goblin horde - I loved the idea of the really little guys and the really bug guys forming a force - especially the idea of goblins trying to goad stupid trolls into combat.
I used to have six of these, but they've all been traded to grow my collection in other directions. I love the figures and I think they were really important in GW's history, but curiously, I have no desire to own them again. Well, okay, maybe a little bit.
Okay, a lot!
So there is a brief trip through my nostalgia. You'll note that the Red and Green catalogues are broadly the only ones featured, so you can tell exactly when I got into the hobby. There are loads of other amazing figures for so many reasons, but these ten - these are the ones I'd drool over, imagining them in my armies and coveting them in others' armies.
It remains to say thanks to those who have posted this up - one of the most pleasant little wanders I've had through the past in a long while. Cheers, all!
Monday, 30 June 2014
Ellen Degenerate: Lord of Chaos
With Bring Out Your Lead! 2014 fast approaching, I find myself preparing, like you.
Painting.
As the more regimented of the readers of this blog may have noted, the posts have been sporadic and a little too spaced out. The sort of thing that happens when one is tackling real life: two year olds, family holidays and heroically ambitious company growth plans despite ridiculous cutbacks.
And if you thought the posting was suffering, well the past three months have produced absolutely no painting at all. Not a jot. No pots opened, no brushes laid out, no figures even undercoated, or cleaned. Not even been sniffing the glue.
But inspiration comes, as it always does.
Enter Ellen Degenerate. Don't recall the name? Go ahead and follow the link. There's time.
Now as you will see, the good lady is a good and powerful lord of chaos. Someone not to be trifled with, by all accounts. But how do you model a sinister and powerful chaos lord, when they're afflicted with one of these:
Providence is afoot, because it just so happens that Don Hans, slavering scion of Nurgle that he is, decided to paint an ostrich man, which goes to illustrate the point:
Interesting? Yes.
Disturbing? A little, yes. Mainly due to the paint job, actually.
Chaos Lord? ...er.....no.
And it was this conundrum that stopped me from working on Ellen. I had worked out what she might look like when I produced the epilogue of the last battle report played out on this site, which helped with the overall idea, but I was still stumped for a candidate figure.
I needed something frail, like an elf, but still full of power, as only a chaos lord could be. Likewise, something suggestive of the mind-shredding madness that is only millimetres away from engulfing her strained and anxious mind.
All along she was just sitting in front of me. I'm talking about 3 years now. Before I'd even written the first line of her first appearance, the candidate was waiting before me.
The Dark Emissary.
It is one of my favourite figures of all time - a candidate for so much. It could be dark elf sorcerer, some kind of chaos thing, a necromancer - it's even a good candidate for a grey seer. And also for Ellen Degenerate.
What I didn't do was take a before shot. But, you look like you're into finding things out, so you can google that and see what a normal one looks like.
In essence, I've not changed much at all. I toyed with different heads and I was on the very verge of replacing her staff with the daemon sword she has. In the end, I just gave her the neck, which twists over her back before returning under her left arm and positioning her head beautifully in the centre of her chest.
After three years in incubation, I give you...
...Ellen Degenerate:
A shot considering her armoured neck (she is blessed with fused chaos armour, you see). I tried to keep the colours bright, as she is an elf after all, and I suspect Slaanesh people are big on colours. In hindsight, I should have rounded the armour plates more, as I ended up trying to paint that in some sort of crustacean shell pattern.
I also tried to get the whorls and spirals to glow. I might revisit this after BOYL, depending on my mood, my painting schedule and my eternal enemy: real life.
A quick note about the camera. It's new and frustratingly shares nothing in common (y'know, like the user interface) with my old one. I took lots of shots which seemed okay on the camera screen, but were just useless for the blog - so, apologies for the light and the comparatively few shots.
Now I am clear to start working on her terrifying retinue - being comprised of Teacake, the chaos goblin and Sirrell Tonjon, the chaos dwarf.
Candidates have already been selected...
Painting.
As the more regimented of the readers of this blog may have noted, the posts have been sporadic and a little too spaced out. The sort of thing that happens when one is tackling real life: two year olds, family holidays and heroically ambitious company growth plans despite ridiculous cutbacks.
And if you thought the posting was suffering, well the past three months have produced absolutely no painting at all. Not a jot. No pots opened, no brushes laid out, no figures even undercoated, or cleaned. Not even been sniffing the glue.
But inspiration comes, as it always does.
Enter Ellen Degenerate. Don't recall the name? Go ahead and follow the link. There's time.
Now as you will see, the good lady is a good and powerful lord of chaos. Someone not to be trifled with, by all accounts. But how do you model a sinister and powerful chaos lord, when they're afflicted with one of these:
Providence is afoot, because it just so happens that Don Hans, slavering scion of Nurgle that he is, decided to paint an ostrich man, which goes to illustrate the point:
Interesting? Yes.
Disturbing? A little, yes. Mainly due to the paint job, actually.
Chaos Lord? ...er.....no.
And it was this conundrum that stopped me from working on Ellen. I had worked out what she might look like when I produced the epilogue of the last battle report played out on this site, which helped with the overall idea, but I was still stumped for a candidate figure.
I needed something frail, like an elf, but still full of power, as only a chaos lord could be. Likewise, something suggestive of the mind-shredding madness that is only millimetres away from engulfing her strained and anxious mind.
All along she was just sitting in front of me. I'm talking about 3 years now. Before I'd even written the first line of her first appearance, the candidate was waiting before me.
The Dark Emissary.
It is one of my favourite figures of all time - a candidate for so much. It could be dark elf sorcerer, some kind of chaos thing, a necromancer - it's even a good candidate for a grey seer. And also for Ellen Degenerate.
What I didn't do was take a before shot. But, you look like you're into finding things out, so you can google that and see what a normal one looks like.
In essence, I've not changed much at all. I toyed with different heads and I was on the very verge of replacing her staff with the daemon sword she has. In the end, I just gave her the neck, which twists over her back before returning under her left arm and positioning her head beautifully in the centre of her chest.
After three years in incubation, I give you...
...Ellen Degenerate:
A shot considering her armoured neck (she is blessed with fused chaos armour, you see). I tried to keep the colours bright, as she is an elf after all, and I suspect Slaanesh people are big on colours. In hindsight, I should have rounded the armour plates more, as I ended up trying to paint that in some sort of crustacean shell pattern.
I also tried to get the whorls and spirals to glow. I might revisit this after BOYL, depending on my mood, my painting schedule and my eternal enemy: real life.
A quick note about the camera. It's new and frustratingly shares nothing in common (y'know, like the user interface) with my old one. I took lots of shots which seemed okay on the camera screen, but were just useless for the blog - so, apologies for the light and the comparatively few shots.
Now I am clear to start working on her terrifying retinue - being comprised of Teacake, the chaos goblin and Sirrell Tonjon, the chaos dwarf.
Candidates have already been selected...
Friday, 6 June 2014
Bring Out Your Lead! 2014
The Oldhammer community are pleased to officially announce Oldhammer - Bring Out Your Lead! (2014). Of course, you've heard about it already. But this is the official announcement, so now you can officially start panicking about how long it will take to grow a mullet.
*Okay, probably not that last one.
Oh - did we mention that this is NOT A TOURNAMENT? Good.
We are also extremely pleased with and grateful to our hosts - Foundry Miniatures in Nottingham. The event is taking place over the weekend of the 08/08/2014 (Friday afternoon onwards) - 10/08/2014 (Sunday).
So, first things first: This is a gaming event. The entire idea and surely the primary purpose for attending is to play games.
BUT - it is NOT a tournament. Nothing can be won. Your victory over your opponent is purely moral and for retelling in a pub later. There are no ladders, no leagues, no recognition of your amazing army building talents and keen interpretation of the rules. THIS IS NOT A TOURNAMENT!
Which makes things a little harder to organise. In a traditional tournament, the organisers would set a points limit, army restrictions and painting guidelines in order to ensure that everyone has a fair chance. There is no need to worry about who matches who, as once the first game is completed, better players will be faced off against better players and the whole thing is supposedly fair.
Because it's NOT A TOURNAMENT, we can't do any of that.
This means we need your help. In order to understand the numbers attending, we have a booking form. BUT, because it's NOT A TOURNAMENT, the organisers will not allocate you an opponent on the day. Read this as the organisers do not guarantee you a game.
You, aspiring gamer, CAN ensure a game, however, by following up your booking with an entry on the Oldhammer Forum BOYL 2014 Thread. In this forum, you will be able to tell others what you're planning to bring, how many points/figures you plan to field and what sort of game you want to play.
You are still welcome to simply turn up at Foundry with your army and no booking, but if there is more demand than supply, preference will be given to those who are registered.
How much is this gonna cost me?
Entry to the event is free. Our generous hosts, Foundry Miniatures, are not charging us for the venue, and as it's NOT A TOURNAMENT, we're not offering any prizes.
Of course, you still have other costs to consider - if you're travelling a long way, you might need a place to stay overnight. You will need to get there. And, of course, you'll probably want to get an army ready. Start saving now!
The even takes place over the weekend of the 09/08/2014 - 10/08/2014 at The Wargames Foundry (in their new premises):
Friday (08/08/2014) from 13:00 until 20:00.
Saturday (09/08/2014) from 10:00 until 20:00.
Sunday (10/08/2014) from 10:00 until 17:00.
Foundry's Address:
Foundry Miniatures Ltd
Church Lane
Newark
NG23 5QF
United Kingdom.
+44 (0)115 8413000
Please feel free to call Foundry if you have any questions on how to get there or where to park, etc.
We do ask that you arrive on time, as you will need to factor in finding your game, meeting your opponent, unpacking and packing of figures and copious amounts of pointing at things and going "Wow! Is that (delete as appropriate) [your amazing paint job / that ultra rare figure I've never seen in real life before / really your sister*]?
Where and when is this all happening?
The even takes place over the weekend of the 09/08/2014 - 10/08/2014 at The Wargames Foundry (in their new premises):
Friday (08/08/2014) from 13:00 until 20:00.
Saturday (09/08/2014) from 10:00 until 20:00.
Sunday (10/08/2014) from 10:00 until 17:00.
Foundry's Address:
Foundry Miniatures Ltd
Church Lane
Newark
NG23 5QF
United Kingdom.
+44 (0)115 8413000
Please feel free to call Foundry if you have any questions on how to get there or where to park, etc.
We do ask that you arrive on time, as you will need to factor in finding your game, meeting your opponent, unpacking and packing of figures and copious amounts of pointing at things and going "Wow! Is that (delete as appropriate) [your amazing paint job / that ultra rare figure I've never seen in real life before / really your sister*]?
*Okay, probably not that last one.
Foundry? They're in Newark-upon-Trent! That's miles away!
Yes, it is. As mentioned above - they have offered their facility free of charge. They have the space, the tables and the interest in the hobby and so stand head and shoulders above any other option we've considered to date.
To be clear, we have no official relationship with Foundry - they've offered because they have an interest in what we're trying to achieve and they've offered us the facility as a result.
That's awful nice of them!
Yes, it is. So lets talk about Foundry. Perhaps you've heard of Bryan Ansell? No? Once upon a time, he ran Games Workshop. Take a look at your Warhammer 3rd Edition books - that's right, he co-authored some of them. Marcus (Bryan's son, following in the family footsteps) runs Wargames Foundry. They have a clear 'spiritual' connection to the Oldhammer movement.
We mention this because we ask that the Oldhammer community respect the facility and the effort that Foundry (and the Ansell family) have gone through to host this. When you're on site, please don't litter, or break things, or steal, or do anything that would bring the Oldhammer community into disrepute. We would dearly love to be invited back to the Foundry. Keep this in mind when you attend.
But there's food, right?
Yes.
The Ansell family also conduct business in catering. As a result of this remarkable good fortune, Foundry are able to offer hot food and are licensed to sell alcohol. Of course, you'll have to pay for this (expect typical pub rates), but you won't need to go foraging around the fields of Neward-upon-Trent for food.
The Ansell family also conduct business in catering. As a result of this remarkable good fortune, Foundry are able to offer hot food and are licensed to sell alcohol. Of course, you'll have to pay for this (expect typical pub rates), but you won't need to go foraging around the fields of Neward-upon-Trent for food.
A note of warning: if you are unable to handle your alcohol, you will be ejected from the event immediately! The idea here is to fulfil every gamers fantasy of playing cool games whilst having a pint - not to lose your temper and get involved in a fist fight.
And participation events?
Fear not, citizen! Participation events there will be. This is the place to determine which ones you're interested in.
What else do I need to know?
- In case you missed it: this is NOT A TOURNAMENT!
- The only unpainted figures we're expecting to see are those being traded. If you are playing a game, you must play with painted figures! Painted figures are a sign of respect to your opponent and to the community.
- Chances are, you're not as familiar with the old rules as you think you are. Take some time to read the rules before you arrive, but please allow for the fact many of the 'classic' rulesets are badly organised, badly written and sometimes just plain missing. You should expect that your game will involve lots of reading and discussion as you try to work out how to resolve whatever is happening. Don't panic - this is normal!
- You may bring figures from any manufacturer and from any era. Although the Oldhammer movement is rooted in the 80's, we are interested in the spirit of Oldhammer, not the manufacture. You are as welcome bringing a heroic scale 28mm modern plastic army as you are bringing your soft lead pre-slotta army.
- There is a question on the form about scenery. Foundry have offered to supply some scenery, but if you are able to bring something, please do - every little bit helps. Where possible, we'll do our level best to ensure that scenery remains table specific - both to satisfy the aesthetic 'it all looks the same' perspective and to help ensure that your scenery is all in one place (for easy identification and care).
- Ultimately, you are accountable for the fun you have. This event is a framework for you to create the ultimate oldhammer experience that you never had in your youth. We're trying to make it as flexible as possible, but we can't do that without your participation and effort. Let's be clear: you will have to do something for yourself before you arrive at Foundry this summer!
- Neither the organisers nor Foundry Miniatures accept any responsibility or liability for you.
Okay, I'm in. What am I supposed to do again?
- Fill out the booking form!
- Register on the Oldhammer Forum!
- Create an entry on the BOYL 2014 thread to organise your games!
- Pitch up on the weekend!
- Try not to explode from all your misdirected excitement until then!
Oh - did we mention that this is NOT A TOURNAMENT? Good.
Monday, 2 June 2014
Zoids, Liebsters and An Oxymoron
Dear Reader. It has been a long time.
So very long.
Where to begin? What explanation does one offer for two months of stark, blank absence, the same post waiting to greet you on your repeated visits, shamefully shuffling its feet, unable to explain where it's colleagues are or indeed, quite what is happening with this enterprise as a whole.
And yet, despite my absence, I seem to have collected some Liebster awards.
Now these things wander around the internet all the time, constantly hounding bloggers into frenetic bursts of personal revelation, as well as the instruction to nominate five or ten or twenty or whatever-the-hell-the-number-is blogs to be visited as part of the nomination.
Or else.
So, let's explain. I'll get to the Liebster things in a bit. In defence of my absence, I can only say that I've been living in another hemisphere for the whole of May. For those in the know, they'll realise I'm traditionally based in the northern one, so the only other one I believe we have on this planet is the southern one. That's the one I've been in. Tine to learn a word:
The oxymoron I shall employ by way of example is 'family holiday'. Ostensibly, the purpose for my spending the entirety of May in South Africa was for a family holiday. Don't get me wrong. Families are great. Holidays are great. But the union of the two is something frankly unholy, especially for extended periods of time.
Oh wait. It occurs to me that I ought to define family at this point. I don't refer to the spending of time with my wife or my child on holiday as 'frankly unholy'. They are treasures to be savoured and time with them in a relaxing environment is pure gold.
I'm talking about the rest of the bloody family.
So May has largely been spent in a curious state of pleasure (I forgot how well they eat out there!) and despair (I didn't fly my child 9000 kms for you to ignore her as you watch 20/20 cricket...)
More frustratingly, 31 days of being 'off' have failed to produce even a single painted figure. Not only was I not in the same hemisphere for the whole of May, but in order to prepare my employer for my considerable absence, I pretty much spent the whole of April working flat out, again stopping dead in it's tracks my hobby time. No blogging, no painting. Even accessing the Oldhammer Forum has been sporadic and confused. Both because of time and the desperately poor internet connections made available in South Africa to me.
Let me just say this - if you are planning on starting a new country, or perhaps taking over the one you currently live in - when you write up the new constitution, please ensure you enshrine the right to high speed internet access within it. Internet access is now a human right, not some kind of product to be exploited! I shall send a very strong letter to the European Parliament expressing my thoughts on the matter.
Still, I did get some time to catch up on the various blogs I frequent (but for May). It was whilst I was so doing that I noticed the whole Liebster thing. Firstly, Thantsants of Somewhere The Tea's Getting Cold thought kindly of me and dropped a mention, and then Stylus of The WoffBoot Chronicles did something very similar!
I have nothing but praise for Thantsants, being, as he is, an all round fine gentleman of noble demeanour and sound oldhammer principles. Quite frankly, I have no idea how such a chap gets all his painting done - I can only imagine his house must overflow with joyous visits from the thousands of friends he must surely have.
I didn't realise it, but The WoffBoot Chronicles is spearheaded by the efforts of not one but two thoroughly diligent posters (Stylus and Kraken), who have also recently experimented with remote gaming - a thing we've explored here on this site two or three times before.
So - thanks to the both of them for the award. I seem to remember these things have made their way to this blog before, but not with the considerable verve that seems to be sweeping the oldhammer community at the moment. Far from ignoring the thing, I thought I'd mention it and provide the suitable supplication in response to those who have awarded the them.
I gather from the way those that have offered the thing to me have blogged, one is suppose to be asked a set of questions and must therefore provide a set of answers. I'm afraid, dear reader, you shall have to wait in violent suspense for those answers, because I have other things to do right now.
Hobby things.
One of the curiosities that returned from South Africa with me was the dusty remains of the only Zoid I ever owned - Mad Thunder:
The image is not the one of my own Zoid, which was in a much dirtier state and had been disassembled for storage, you see. I also very much doubt the electricals still work.
The thing is, I've long been considering some sort of 15mm Rogue Trader - an idea that has been gaining traction in other corners of the internet. I fear that the Zoid is the last straw in this campaign against my wallet. I fear I must concede and buy 15mm stuff immediately. Otherwise the Zoid will be lonely.
That would never do.
Finally, just so that there is no confusion - yes, I will continue to tell the tale of young Gromeo and the Escape from El-Catrase - I still have the notes and the pictures, although I've taken so long with the thing I'll now have to buy Comic Life in order to complete it - the evaluation copy I had expired ages ago...
So very long.
Where to begin? What explanation does one offer for two months of stark, blank absence, the same post waiting to greet you on your repeated visits, shamefully shuffling its feet, unable to explain where it's colleagues are or indeed, quite what is happening with this enterprise as a whole.
And yet, despite my absence, I seem to have collected some Liebster awards.
Now these things wander around the internet all the time, constantly hounding bloggers into frenetic bursts of personal revelation, as well as the instruction to nominate five or ten or twenty or whatever-the-hell-the-number-is blogs to be visited as part of the nomination.
Or else.
So, let's explain. I'll get to the Liebster things in a bit. In defence of my absence, I can only say that I've been living in another hemisphere for the whole of May. For those in the know, they'll realise I'm traditionally based in the northern one, so the only other one I believe we have on this planet is the southern one. That's the one I've been in. Tine to learn a word:
ox·y·mo·ron
[ok-si-mawr-on, -mohr-] Show IPAThe oxymoron I shall employ by way of example is 'family holiday'. Ostensibly, the purpose for my spending the entirety of May in South Africa was for a family holiday. Don't get me wrong. Families are great. Holidays are great. But the union of the two is something frankly unholy, especially for extended periods of time.
Oh wait. It occurs to me that I ought to define family at this point. I don't refer to the spending of time with my wife or my child on holiday as 'frankly unholy'. They are treasures to be savoured and time with them in a relaxing environment is pure gold.
I'm talking about the rest of the bloody family.
So May has largely been spent in a curious state of pleasure (I forgot how well they eat out there!) and despair (I didn't fly my child 9000 kms for you to ignore her as you watch 20/20 cricket...)
More frustratingly, 31 days of being 'off' have failed to produce even a single painted figure. Not only was I not in the same hemisphere for the whole of May, but in order to prepare my employer for my considerable absence, I pretty much spent the whole of April working flat out, again stopping dead in it's tracks my hobby time. No blogging, no painting. Even accessing the Oldhammer Forum has been sporadic and confused. Both because of time and the desperately poor internet connections made available in South Africa to me.
Let me just say this - if you are planning on starting a new country, or perhaps taking over the one you currently live in - when you write up the new constitution, please ensure you enshrine the right to high speed internet access within it. Internet access is now a human right, not some kind of product to be exploited! I shall send a very strong letter to the European Parliament expressing my thoughts on the matter.
Still, I did get some time to catch up on the various blogs I frequent (but for May). It was whilst I was so doing that I noticed the whole Liebster thing. Firstly, Thantsants of Somewhere The Tea's Getting Cold thought kindly of me and dropped a mention, and then Stylus of The WoffBoot Chronicles did something very similar!
I have nothing but praise for Thantsants, being, as he is, an all round fine gentleman of noble demeanour and sound oldhammer principles. Quite frankly, I have no idea how such a chap gets all his painting done - I can only imagine his house must overflow with joyous visits from the thousands of friends he must surely have.
I didn't realise it, but The WoffBoot Chronicles is spearheaded by the efforts of not one but two thoroughly diligent posters (Stylus and Kraken), who have also recently experimented with remote gaming - a thing we've explored here on this site two or three times before.
So - thanks to the both of them for the award. I seem to remember these things have made their way to this blog before, but not with the considerable verve that seems to be sweeping the oldhammer community at the moment. Far from ignoring the thing, I thought I'd mention it and provide the suitable supplication in response to those who have awarded the them.
I gather from the way those that have offered the thing to me have blogged, one is suppose to be asked a set of questions and must therefore provide a set of answers. I'm afraid, dear reader, you shall have to wait in violent suspense for those answers, because I have other things to do right now.
Hobby things.
One of the curiosities that returned from South Africa with me was the dusty remains of the only Zoid I ever owned - Mad Thunder:
The image is not the one of my own Zoid, which was in a much dirtier state and had been disassembled for storage, you see. I also very much doubt the electricals still work.
The thing is, I've long been considering some sort of 15mm Rogue Trader - an idea that has been gaining traction in other corners of the internet. I fear that the Zoid is the last straw in this campaign against my wallet. I fear I must concede and buy 15mm stuff immediately. Otherwise the Zoid will be lonely.
That would never do.
Finally, just so that there is no confusion - yes, I will continue to tell the tale of young Gromeo and the Escape from El-Catrase - I still have the notes and the pictures, although I've taken so long with the thing I'll now have to buy Comic Life in order to complete it - the evaluation copy I had expired ages ago...
Sunday, 23 March 2014
Battle Report: Escape from El Catrase - Turn 1
I can't quite put my finger on it. Either, whenever I do a battle report, I underestimate how much work it really is, or the entire planet is hell bent against me producing battle reports.
I suspect the latter.
Still, through no small amount of bravery, toil and triumph on my part, I am able to continue the story of The Escape from El-Catrase.
With pictures. Taking a queue from many other stories I like (very special mention to Airbornegrove26, whose inspirational use of Comic Life had me aching for more...), I elected to use Comic Life.
Contrary to what I expected, it was much harder to tell a story visually. Especially if you can't go back and set up the poses of the figures.
So, I'd be awfully interested in opinions of this approach. Better or worse than the written story?
Anyway, here's turn 1. The quality of the images (of the comic page, that is, not necessarily those within) is quite high, so I'd imagine they would be best viewed if you right-clicked on the image and opened them in a new page. Apologies - blogger doesn't have any really clever options here. I know I can set it up not to use the slide-show, but the corresponding lack of navigability is too frightful to consider.
Regards
Gaj
I suspect the latter.
Still, through no small amount of bravery, toil and triumph on my part, I am able to continue the story of The Escape from El-Catrase.
With pictures. Taking a queue from many other stories I like (very special mention to Airbornegrove26, whose inspirational use of Comic Life had me aching for more...), I elected to use Comic Life.
Contrary to what I expected, it was much harder to tell a story visually. Especially if you can't go back and set up the poses of the figures.
So, I'd be awfully interested in opinions of this approach. Better or worse than the written story?
Anyway, here's turn 1. The quality of the images (of the comic page, that is, not necessarily those within) is quite high, so I'd imagine they would be best viewed if you right-clicked on the image and opened them in a new page. Apologies - blogger doesn't have any really clever options here. I know I can set it up not to use the slide-show, but the corresponding lack of navigability is too frightful to consider.
Regards
Gaj
Monday, 24 February 2014
Battle Report: Escape from El Catrase - Prologue & Deployment
I know that you are an astute reader. You just look astute.
No, really. You do. Go and admire your astuteness in the mirror. This can wait.
Back so soon? It was almost as if you opened the dictionary and turned to Astute. There was a picture of you.
And because you're an astute reader, you probably worked out from the nature of the pictures in my previous blog post that it was not just a scenario.
It was, in fact, a battle report.
The game was with one of my two nearest oldhammerers: one Jeff McC, of Portsmouth. Okay, he has more name than that, but I've not revealed it all just in case MI5 locate him and confiscate his old lead. You'll recognise him as Jeff McC on the oldhammer forum. Well, you will now, given that I've just told you.
Perhaps we should have a prologue, hmmm?
Tzeentch opened the door. "Khorne! You made it!"
"Wouldn't miss this gig for the worlds! You won't believe what I've cooked up!" Khorne pushed past Tzeentch. "'Sup, ladies!" he barked at Nurgle. "Oh. No Slaanesh yet?"
"Hey, hey - it's everyone's favourite Khorne-dog!" Nurgle purred, slipping slightly as the arm of the chair he was ensconced in finally rotted away. "I just got the board out! Oh boy - you brought some Skulls!"
Khorned winked down at Nurgle. "Wouldn't be games night without 'em!"
The bag melted under Nurgle's gentle administrations, allowing the Skulls to tumble onto the table, a part of which formed into a bowl just as Tzeentch walked in. "C'mon Nurgle! I just got that chair!"
"S'not my fault your stupid chairs only last for a hundred thousand years! You gotta stop buying shit at Eyekea! Happens every time I come over." Nurgle stuffed a fistful of Skulls into his mouth, crunching indignantly.
"Ah, that'll be Slaneesh, then," Tzeentch pronounced, as a multi-coloured arm materialised from the wall before him and pointed to the door. "Don't touch anything else, Nurgle!"
Tzeentch returned with Slaanesh in tow. "Good! We're all here!"
"New 'do?" Nurgle said, bits of Skull drizzling from his mouth.
"Yes, actually," Slaanesh titivated, flicking his hair. "Glad you noticed. It's the day of Saint Valentine around about now, so I thought I'd do something with the colours of disappointment: dates not turning up, finding out your life partner is gay - you know, that sort of thing. I like how it turned out."
"I'd imagine finding out your deity is gay is quite disappointing too?" Khorne muttered.
"I think you'll find my satisfaction ratings are high on both sides of the fence - higher than yours all round, actually," Slaanesh quipped back. "Let me guess," he said, looking into the peculiar bowl, which tipped itself towards him as he leaned over. "Skulls! Originality must be your middle name, Khorne! Oh wait, I forgot - it's Dick!"
"I thought you quite liked dicks? What did you bring, anyway?"
"I don't like them enough to lick my own, though." Slaanesh took his seat opposite Khorne. "I brought some cucumber juice."
"Cucumber juice?" Tzeentch raised his eyebrow. "No fancy dispair-of-finger-nails-being-dragged-down-a-chalk-board-remixed-with-Miley-Cyrus-sings-polka-triple-filtered-through-tax-return-frustration-and-distilled-over-a-thousand-years?"
Slaanesh shrugged. "I thought of that, but we've sort a done that before. Any of you had cucumber juice before?"
The other gods shrugged and shook their heads.
"See? New experience all round. Simple cucumber juice! I see the board's all set up?"
"Yep," Nurgle said. "Picking up where we left off the last time."
"Remind me again?" Tzentch said, sitting down opposite Nurgle.
"So you had a Community Chest card, which you played on the half-orc." Nurgle looked at the card and read it aloud:
"Yeah, I remember now," nodded Tzeentch.
"So, the half-orc-" Nurgle started.
"Gromeo," insisted Slaanesh.
"-Gromeo - was under Slaanesh's control, but that's caused him to miss his turn. Which makes it Khorne's to go."
"Boom!" barked Khorne, slamming a card down onto the board. "Double move, bitches!"
Slaamesh rolled his eyes. Tzeentch picked the card up and peered at it. "Okay, so what're you going to do?"
"I'm dropping this orc army on Gromeo's arse, is what I'm doing!"
"You're such a pussy, Khorne!" Slaanesh scowled.
"Yeah? Well, you know what pussies do to people don't you? They f-"
"I know what they do, yes," Slaanesh interrupted. "But never having seen one, I bet you don't!"
"C'mon guys," Nurgle admonished. "Go on, Khorne. Roll the dice..."
Jeff swallowed nervously. He considered the door and pondered the various different ways the next few minutes could play out.
"Ahem," he knocked. Softly, if he was honest about the thing. May as well look respectful.
Nothing happened. He could just make out some low moaning and a giggle.
"Um, sir?" he tried again, this time a little louder. Jeff shook his head. He couldn't really understand the desire to use these idiotic human titles. Sir? It sounded weak. At least, it did when he said it. When Gromeo said it, it sounded amazing! He just had, well, a way of saying it.
"Excuse me, Sir!" Jeff tried again, this time thumping the door.
"What is it?" a luxurious baritone demanded. "I'm busy!"
"Sir? Sir! We need to get out of here!"
"I'm not even in her! What are you on about? I'm not about to leave now!"
"Not her! Here!" Jeff croaked, hoarse with frustration. "We need to get out of here!" He pressed his ear to the door, barely catching another giggle.
After much creaking, groaning, grumbling and swearing, Jeff heard a sound that he approved of: the heavy thump of Gromeo's steps towards the door. What the little goblin chief had not anticipated was the door launching open at such a speed that he would have no time whatsoever to react.
The full force of Gromeo's considerable frustration slammed into Jeff's forehead through the medium of the brass doorknob. Jeff Leppard, Grand Nobbe of the Tripe Valley horde of goblins in the command of Roland Stones, 2nd in commnand to Gromeo himself, landed unceremoniously in the mud.
Jeff's jaw dropped in horror as he gazed up at the vast green bulk that was Gromeo. He appeared to be unclothed, but chins covered his belly and his belly covered, well, up to his knees. He watched Gromeo's face crack into a savage grin.
"It's Gromraaz!" Jeff stammered.
"And what, pray tell young Jeff, is a Gromraaz? And perhaps even more importantly, why in the name of all things holy and unholy - and that, let me tell you, is a great many names indeed - did you see fit to interrupt me for it?"
Jeff swallowed again. Gromeo's voice was soft and his face was as gentle as any visage might be when presented on a morbidly obese half-orc. His fear was that Gromeo was one of those commanders that was all calm and serene on the outside and the most depraved of savages on the inside. So far, nothing had happened in the force by way of extreme discipline, which caused a nervous terror amongst the entirety of the greenskin contingent - how could he enforce discipline without outward, obvious and regular displays of violence? Jeff had no plans to discover what it was that Gromeo did. Now was not the time anyway.
"Gromraaz the Poet!" Jeff ejected "He's on his way here!"
Gromeo's eyes roamed the pre-dawn sky as he contemplated the name.
"Minorca?" Jeff prompted.
"Ah," Gromeo grinned. "Good times, Minorca..."
"Gromraaz don't seem to think so! He's coming in force! Looks like he wants to take El Catrase!"
"Is that so?" Gromeo said, scratching his chin. "I s'pose I can't rely on your retards to manage that. Better safe than sorry, eh? Get my chariot ready, then!"
Finally! thought Jeff, the idiot is seeing sense. Jeff winced as he gazed up at Gromeo's considerable belly. "And your clothes, Sir?"
"Oh. Good point, young Jeff," Gromeo chuckled, looking down on himself. "Don't want little Gee to get cold now, do we. Ben? Ben! BEN!" he shouted.
Another goblin scrambled into view. "Yes Sir?"
"Get my chariot ready. Jeff here needs to help me to get dressed!"
"Yes Sir!" Ben Jovey confirmed, before racing into the darkness.
The colour drained from Jeff's face. "Dre... dressed, Sir?"
"Come on, you," Gromeo hummed, hefting poor Jeff up by his throat.
Next time on Warhammer For Adults: will Gromeo defy the mighty horde of Gromraaz? Will either side's trolls pass their stupidity test? How will Agatha and Christie escape the field with so many goblins around?
All this and more in the next exciting instalment of The Escape from El Catrase!
No, really. You do. Go and admire your astuteness in the mirror. This can wait.
Back so soon? It was almost as if you opened the dictionary and turned to Astute. There was a picture of you.
And because you're an astute reader, you probably worked out from the nature of the pictures in my previous blog post that it was not just a scenario.
It was, in fact, a battle report.
The game was with one of my two nearest oldhammerers: one Jeff McC, of Portsmouth. Okay, he has more name than that, but I've not revealed it all just in case MI5 locate him and confiscate his old lead. You'll recognise him as Jeff McC on the oldhammer forum. Well, you will now, given that I've just told you.
Perhaps we should have a prologue, hmmm?
***
Prologue: The Escape from El Catrase
Tzeentch opened the door. "Khorne! You made it!"
"Wouldn't miss this gig for the worlds! You won't believe what I've cooked up!" Khorne pushed past Tzeentch. "'Sup, ladies!" he barked at Nurgle. "Oh. No Slaanesh yet?"
"Hey, hey - it's everyone's favourite Khorne-dog!" Nurgle purred, slipping slightly as the arm of the chair he was ensconced in finally rotted away. "I just got the board out! Oh boy - you brought some Skulls!"
Khorned winked down at Nurgle. "Wouldn't be games night without 'em!"
The bag melted under Nurgle's gentle administrations, allowing the Skulls to tumble onto the table, a part of which formed into a bowl just as Tzeentch walked in. "C'mon Nurgle! I just got that chair!"
"S'not my fault your stupid chairs only last for a hundred thousand years! You gotta stop buying shit at Eyekea! Happens every time I come over." Nurgle stuffed a fistful of Skulls into his mouth, crunching indignantly.
"Ah, that'll be Slaneesh, then," Tzeentch pronounced, as a multi-coloured arm materialised from the wall before him and pointed to the door. "Don't touch anything else, Nurgle!"
Tzeentch returned with Slaanesh in tow. "Good! We're all here!"
"New 'do?" Nurgle said, bits of Skull drizzling from his mouth.
"Yes, actually," Slaanesh titivated, flicking his hair. "Glad you noticed. It's the day of Saint Valentine around about now, so I thought I'd do something with the colours of disappointment: dates not turning up, finding out your life partner is gay - you know, that sort of thing. I like how it turned out."
"I'd imagine finding out your deity is gay is quite disappointing too?" Khorne muttered.
"I think you'll find my satisfaction ratings are high on both sides of the fence - higher than yours all round, actually," Slaanesh quipped back. "Let me guess," he said, looking into the peculiar bowl, which tipped itself towards him as he leaned over. "Skulls! Originality must be your middle name, Khorne! Oh wait, I forgot - it's Dick!"
"I thought you quite liked dicks? What did you bring, anyway?"
"I don't like them enough to lick my own, though." Slaanesh took his seat opposite Khorne. "I brought some cucumber juice."
"Cucumber juice?" Tzeentch raised his eyebrow. "No fancy dispair-of-finger-nails-being-dragged-down-a-chalk-board-remixed-with-Miley-Cyrus-sings-polka-triple-filtered-through-tax-return-frustration-and-distilled-over-a-thousand-years?"
Slaanesh shrugged. "I thought of that, but we've sort a done that before. Any of you had cucumber juice before?"
The other gods shrugged and shook their heads.
"See? New experience all round. Simple cucumber juice! I see the board's all set up?"
"Yep," Nurgle said. "Picking up where we left off the last time."
"Remind me again?" Tzentch said, sitting down opposite Nurgle.
"So you had a Community Chest card, which you played on the half-orc." Nurgle looked at the card and read it aloud:
Lusty and Late
Play this card against any one opponent's playing piece to cause that piece to miss a turn.
"Yeah, I remember now," nodded Tzeentch.
"So, the half-orc-" Nurgle started.
"Gromeo," insisted Slaanesh.
"-Gromeo - was under Slaanesh's control, but that's caused him to miss his turn. Which makes it Khorne's to go."
"Boom!" barked Khorne, slamming a card down onto the board. "Double move, bitches!"
Slaamesh rolled his eyes. Tzeentch picked the card up and peered at it. "Okay, so what're you going to do?"
"I'm dropping this orc army on Gromeo's arse, is what I'm doing!"
"You're such a pussy, Khorne!" Slaanesh scowled.
"Yeah? Well, you know what pussies do to people don't you? They f-"
"I know what they do, yes," Slaanesh interrupted. "But never having seen one, I bet you don't!"
"C'mon guys," Nurgle admonished. "Go on, Khorne. Roll the dice..."
***
Jeff swallowed nervously. He considered the door and pondered the various different ways the next few minutes could play out.
"Ahem," he knocked. Softly, if he was honest about the thing. May as well look respectful.
Nothing happened. He could just make out some low moaning and a giggle.
"Um, sir?" he tried again, this time a little louder. Jeff shook his head. He couldn't really understand the desire to use these idiotic human titles. Sir? It sounded weak. At least, it did when he said it. When Gromeo said it, it sounded amazing! He just had, well, a way of saying it.
"Excuse me, Sir!" Jeff tried again, this time thumping the door.
"What is it?" a luxurious baritone demanded. "I'm busy!"
"Sir? Sir! We need to get out of here!"
"I'm not even in her! What are you on about? I'm not about to leave now!"
"Not her! Here!" Jeff croaked, hoarse with frustration. "We need to get out of here!" He pressed his ear to the door, barely catching another giggle.
After much creaking, groaning, grumbling and swearing, Jeff heard a sound that he approved of: the heavy thump of Gromeo's steps towards the door. What the little goblin chief had not anticipated was the door launching open at such a speed that he would have no time whatsoever to react.
The full force of Gromeo's considerable frustration slammed into Jeff's forehead through the medium of the brass doorknob. Jeff Leppard, Grand Nobbe of the Tripe Valley horde of goblins in the command of Roland Stones, 2nd in commnand to Gromeo himself, landed unceremoniously in the mud.
Jeff's jaw dropped in horror as he gazed up at the vast green bulk that was Gromeo. He appeared to be unclothed, but chins covered his belly and his belly covered, well, up to his knees. He watched Gromeo's face crack into a savage grin.
"It's Gromraaz!" Jeff stammered.
"And what, pray tell young Jeff, is a Gromraaz? And perhaps even more importantly, why in the name of all things holy and unholy - and that, let me tell you, is a great many names indeed - did you see fit to interrupt me for it?"
Jeff swallowed again. Gromeo's voice was soft and his face was as gentle as any visage might be when presented on a morbidly obese half-orc. His fear was that Gromeo was one of those commanders that was all calm and serene on the outside and the most depraved of savages on the inside. So far, nothing had happened in the force by way of extreme discipline, which caused a nervous terror amongst the entirety of the greenskin contingent - how could he enforce discipline without outward, obvious and regular displays of violence? Jeff had no plans to discover what it was that Gromeo did. Now was not the time anyway.
"Gromraaz the Poet!" Jeff ejected "He's on his way here!"
Gromeo's eyes roamed the pre-dawn sky as he contemplated the name.
"Minorca?" Jeff prompted.
"Ah," Gromeo grinned. "Good times, Minorca..."
"Gromraaz don't seem to think so! He's coming in force! Looks like he wants to take El Catrase!"
"Is that so?" Gromeo said, scratching his chin. "I s'pose I can't rely on your retards to manage that. Better safe than sorry, eh? Get my chariot ready, then!"
Finally! thought Jeff, the idiot is seeing sense. Jeff winced as he gazed up at Gromeo's considerable belly. "And your clothes, Sir?"
"Oh. Good point, young Jeff," Gromeo chuckled, looking down on himself. "Don't want little Gee to get cold now, do we. Ben? Ben! BEN!" he shouted.
Another goblin scrambled into view. "Yes Sir?"
"Get my chariot ready. Jeff here needs to help me to get dressed!"
"Yes Sir!" Ben Jovey confirmed, before racing into the darkness.
The colour drained from Jeff's face. "Dre... dressed, Sir?"
"Come on, you," Gromeo hummed, hefting poor Jeff up by his throat.
***
Deployment
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| Look! A table! Every deployment should have one. We are facing north (so the closest table edge is South, see?). |
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| And some pictures of things... deployed. Y'know. Cos its deployment. |
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| This is the Chaos camp. |
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| Gromeo and his Goblin Guard occupy El Catrase |
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| Agatha and Christie, two of Gromeo's many squeezes... |
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| The southern deployment of the orcs... |
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| Their northern deployment... |
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| Their western deployment. |
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| The field, as seen from the east. |
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| Jeff, already totting up victory points in his head... |
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| Explanation of the Chaos deployment. |
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| Explanation of the Orc & Goblin deployment. |
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| A thousand words.... |
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| ...and the extended explanation of the Orc & Goblin deployment, because my camera couldn't fit all the little buggers in... |
All this and more in the next exciting instalment of The Escape from El Catrase!
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