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Mar. 7th, 2007 12:14 am...precisely what it was is still under debate, but suffice to say it was unique.
The trip up to Bex's has been covered in detail in a couple of places, and they're both friends locked. In this entirely public forum, I won't go into it in its entirety - there's a few things that probably aren't best discussed anywhere anyone at Bex's end of things might get a chance to read. So, if you can get onto them, Bex herself and Emma have produced, for your viewing pleasure, the weekend with a funny take on it. As far as universally available information...
It is possible to power the entirety of the necessary electrics required to run a functioning pub on a single 2.3kVa petrol generator. We had beer, music, lighting, and it didn't even overheat. Often.
Emma should not, under any circumstances, be allowed to play poker with you. In approximately fifty hands, anyone who pulls down five straights, three full houses and four of a kind is only safe if you're the one doing the bankrolling.
Hasbro are ripping off their old game concepts. Anyone who has ever played Mysteries of Old Peking and is feeling nostalgic should check out Cluedo Mysteries. You might find the odd, odd similarities.
Pricks from the north are very similar to pricks from the south. I don't suppose this comes as a surprise to anyone, but I felt the need to mention a certain northern prick who though he'd be 'ard by putting his fist through one of the pub's windows. From the outside. Then run off. Then come back thirty minutes later and try to gain entry. Then run off again.
Anyone who is in a quasi-Assault on Precinct 13 situation and is lost for a weapon, take a look at a coal poker - beautifully balanced. At least this one was.
Travelling to Droitwich Spa from Wakefield on a Sunday morning is hard.
Having dispensed wisdom, my thanks to Bex for, despite her constant self-deprecation, a fun weekend the type of which I haven't had since Bristol. During these kinds of times there are few places I'd rather be than helping you. Always a pleasure, never a chore - and that's the second time I've said that in a couple of weeks.
_____________
The Warhammer plot arc lies defeated at our feet. After finally getting a handle on what was going on before Tim's character killed the subject for some reason or other, we managed to track the source of the plague quietly going about killing the unwashed majorities of Nöln. Unfortunately, having set ourselves the target of saving the world three times before supper, we'd only managed the one before the big party and the unveiling of the latest big gun. Ergo, we didn't manage to get to it before it was sabotaged, fired, exploded, and sprayed shrapnel and scrap metal all over the assembled masses, and the hordes of chaos decided that now was as good a time as any.
The ensuing fight was afro creating, bowel emptying and nail removing by turns, and involved the majority of the party gaining themselves a little collateral damage in the form of unfortunate bystanders who got caught in our weapon arcs (attn: Excellent roleplaying of swings). I say the majority of the party, as Tim's character was off describing a piscine figure in the Reik as he saved the Countess from certain getting wet and ferried her across to the bank before swimming back to the fight and killing the big bad with one hit.
However, having killed some thirty mutants, six slaneshi daemonettes and a big thing with lots of body parts attached to it and four attacks, it clearly wasn't enough. I imagine had Franz heard the rest of the party, he wouldn't have carried the Countess off to her bedchamber and got laid by one of the Imperial Electors for the second time in a week, but he didn't, and was long gone before Ali, Pieter and Mel decided that their four of five hit points combined would be enough to go and kill the real big bad guy up at the college of gunnery.
He attacked us with two flaming heads. I think had we been a little more able, he'd have been using at least one real weapon. Suffice to say, he's dead, Ali has two broken limbs, and Pieter was carrying two girls away from the action, so nyeh to Franz who only carried one. Fair enough, we were heading for the Temple of Shallya and he was heading for the bedroom, but I consider that a moot point. Threesome's a threesome, baby.
_____________
My plot is not being used for the 24hr.
This makes me a very, very happy man.
Nat and her co-GM (I'm going to go out on a limb here, having not been told for sure, and guess it's Alex. I could be wrong) have it already written and I haven't got to endure all the wonderful feedback. Anyone who wishes to point out how they would have done it differently/better/in an ideal world, tell her, and her co-GM.
Anyone who wants to make suggestions, I'm still passing them on, but nothing you see over that weekend will be my fault. I will be a lowly marshal or monster.
I feel about a stone lighter.
The trip up to Bex's has been covered in detail in a couple of places, and they're both friends locked. In this entirely public forum, I won't go into it in its entirety - there's a few things that probably aren't best discussed anywhere anyone at Bex's end of things might get a chance to read. So, if you can get onto them, Bex herself and Emma have produced, for your viewing pleasure, the weekend with a funny take on it. As far as universally available information...
It is possible to power the entirety of the necessary electrics required to run a functioning pub on a single 2.3kVa petrol generator. We had beer, music, lighting, and it didn't even overheat. Often.
Emma should not, under any circumstances, be allowed to play poker with you. In approximately fifty hands, anyone who pulls down five straights, three full houses and four of a kind is only safe if you're the one doing the bankrolling.
Hasbro are ripping off their old game concepts. Anyone who has ever played Mysteries of Old Peking and is feeling nostalgic should check out Cluedo Mysteries. You might find the odd, odd similarities.
Pricks from the north are very similar to pricks from the south. I don't suppose this comes as a surprise to anyone, but I felt the need to mention a certain northern prick who though he'd be 'ard by putting his fist through one of the pub's windows. From the outside. Then run off. Then come back thirty minutes later and try to gain entry. Then run off again.
Anyone who is in a quasi-Assault on Precinct 13 situation and is lost for a weapon, take a look at a coal poker - beautifully balanced. At least this one was.
Travelling to Droitwich Spa from Wakefield on a Sunday morning is hard.
Having dispensed wisdom, my thanks to Bex for, despite her constant self-deprecation, a fun weekend the type of which I haven't had since Bristol. During these kinds of times there are few places I'd rather be than helping you. Always a pleasure, never a chore - and that's the second time I've said that in a couple of weeks.
_____________
The Warhammer plot arc lies defeated at our feet. After finally getting a handle on what was going on before Tim's character killed the subject for some reason or other, we managed to track the source of the plague quietly going about killing the unwashed majorities of Nöln. Unfortunately, having set ourselves the target of saving the world three times before supper, we'd only managed the one before the big party and the unveiling of the latest big gun. Ergo, we didn't manage to get to it before it was sabotaged, fired, exploded, and sprayed shrapnel and scrap metal all over the assembled masses, and the hordes of chaos decided that now was as good a time as any.
The ensuing fight was afro creating, bowel emptying and nail removing by turns, and involved the majority of the party gaining themselves a little collateral damage in the form of unfortunate bystanders who got caught in our weapon arcs (attn: Excellent roleplaying of swings). I say the majority of the party, as Tim's character was off describing a piscine figure in the Reik as he saved the Countess from certain getting wet and ferried her across to the bank before swimming back to the fight and killing the big bad with one hit.
However, having killed some thirty mutants, six slaneshi daemonettes and a big thing with lots of body parts attached to it and four attacks, it clearly wasn't enough. I imagine had Franz heard the rest of the party, he wouldn't have carried the Countess off to her bedchamber and got laid by one of the Imperial Electors for the second time in a week, but he didn't, and was long gone before Ali, Pieter and Mel decided that their four of five hit points combined would be enough to go and kill the real big bad guy up at the college of gunnery.
He attacked us with two flaming heads. I think had we been a little more able, he'd have been using at least one real weapon. Suffice to say, he's dead, Ali has two broken limbs, and Pieter was carrying two girls away from the action, so nyeh to Franz who only carried one. Fair enough, we were heading for the Temple of Shallya and he was heading for the bedroom, but I consider that a moot point. Threesome's a threesome, baby.
_____________
My plot is not being used for the 24hr.
This makes me a very, very happy man.
Nat and her co-GM (I'm going to go out on a limb here, having not been told for sure, and guess it's Alex. I could be wrong) have it already written and I haven't got to endure all the wonderful feedback. Anyone who wishes to point out how they would have done it differently/better/in an ideal world, tell her, and her co-GM.
Anyone who wants to make suggestions, I'm still passing them on, but nothing you see over that weekend will be my fault. I will be a lowly marshal or monster.
I feel about a stone lighter.
