In which my chaps give Paul's losers a damned good thrashing.

  • “I’m not working for Paedo Bob” said Grunt #1


    “Why not?” said Grunt #2


    “What do you mean, ‘why not’”, said Grunt #1 “because he’s....... you know”


    “What?”


    “He’s...... one of........ them


    “A Wigan rugby fan?”


    “What?? No! He’s not that bad” said Grunt #1, “he’s just a kiddie fiddler”.


    “But he’s paying lots of money” said Grunt #2


    “Have you no morals?” shouted Grunt #1


    “It says on page 32 of the rules that morals are optional” said Grunt #2 “Andy says we’re not using them in this campaign”


    “Oh” said Grunt #1, scratching his groin thoughtfully. “Why don’t we have proper names?”


    “Because our life expectancy is about five minutes” said Grunt #2, “what’s the point in giving us names?”


    “You’re not filling me with confidence”


    “What’s the alternative?” said Grunt #2, “a short life of drudgery, scrabbling about in the muck trying not to die of starvation”


    “But I have dreams” said Grunt #1, “a bucket list, if you will, of aspirations”


    “What’s the point?” said Grunt #2, “when the sun expands and swallows the Earth, all human endeavour will be rendered pointless”.


    Grunt #1 did some more thoughtful scratching. “When you put it like that.....” he said.


    frostgrave-warband-by-toerymer-d8xn3cy.jpg


    And so it was, that our two heroes followed Peado Bob and his ‘friend’ Schoolboy Jimmy, into some dank ruins to retrieve some treasure and other stuff. Something about undead. Or maybe it was Kobolds. I wasn’t paying attention.


    “You go that way” instructed Bob, “me and Jimmy are going this way”.


    “You’re going by yourselves?” said Grunt #1, a hint of incredulity in his voice, “but it’s dark! And forbidding! Yet quite cosy-looking and romantic.”


    “Um” said Bob.


    Grunt #1 and Grunt #2 forged ahead, and found a thing. They pressed some buttons and Grunt #1 turned into a fire-breathing dragon cyborg.


    “Whoooo!” I shouted, “Andy! What does this mean? He’s changed into a fire-breathing dragon cyborg! What benefits does it get him?”


    “It gets you some experience points” said Andy


    “And?”


    “That’s it” intoned Andy, in his loathsome Scottish burr.


    WTF


    “I don’t think Alan’s read the rules” muttered Bryan darkly, as he painted another boring medieval peasant.


    &thumbnail=1


    At this point, Paedo Bob’s warband went berserk and starting attacking everything; Bob teleported one of Paul’s unfortunate warband into the midst of my own, just so we could give him the kicking of a lifetime.


    “Why are you fighting?” shouted Andy, “it’s all about experience points”


    “I can’t help it!” wailed Paul, “he’s right up in my face!”


    Bryan glowered as he dabbed some more brown on a pig farmer.


    Just then, some undead thingy bummed Schoolboy Jimmy into oblivion.


    “Noooooooooooooo!!!” cried out Bob in dismay, “it should have been me!”


    Bob stopped to think and then appended: “doing the bumming I mean, not being pulverised into a fine anal mist”.


    Then some other stuff happened, Paul rolled his dice and all his dead chaps came back to life.


    What a swizz.

    Better lives have been lived in the margins, locked in prisons, and lost on the gallows, than have ever been enshrined in palaces.

  • I was going to put “Scotch burr”.


    I refrained after visions of you punching me in the face.

    Better lives have been lived in the margins, locked in prisons, and lost on the gallows, than have ever been enshrined in palaces.