Friday 27 July 2018

The Hassles of Hoff; 'Terror Rising pt2'

Previously on:

    Shadowy blokes, beaches, Steel Griffons, contracts, campfires and the riddle of a risen Hoff...and if that makes no sense you can catch up with the story so far herehere and here.

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp
       As darkness enveloped them the leader of the militia force, captain Rumbold Sloosh scrambled to his feet. 'To arms damn you to arms!' he bellowed, they are here, we are the only thing between them and the northern coasts men so get up and bloody well fight!!'. All about him in the gloom the ramshackle volunteer force of old soldiers and young boys formed up as best they could, awaiting whatever would come. In the distant tree line they could make out figures moving.......
 The militia force awaits its fate.
Captain Sloosh readies himself.

-An interchangeable back ally, The town of Musky-Dripping

          'Look its quite simple' said Captain D'ballet to the whimpering, cowering figure currently being pinned to a wall by the giant fist of his enforcer, 'House' Martin. 'I want you to answer the question, where are the Fighting Cocks?'. The figure gave out another whimper. 'We know they were here not last full moon, protecting you from a flock of killer geese i believe, so all i need to know is where they went next?'. He drew closer to the figure, a playful smile on his face. 'There's a reward in it if you tell me'. The figure instantly stopped struggling, his eyes hopeful. 'A reward' he beamed, 'great, what is it my lord?'. 'Mr Martin here will let you keep both your teeth!'.

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp
 As the militia formed up the tree line erupted, shambling figures emerging and breaking into a stumbling run, howling with joy at the bloodshed to come.
They came from the trees...

  Striding behind them came a cloaked figure, gesturing like a twisted puppeteer, his movements seemingly controlling his charges.
The dark figure guides his creatures forth.

  As the horrific tide of flesh fell upon them Captain Sloosh raised his sword and bellowed 'Charge!!'...

-The beach, Sandycrece

   'Ginger....Ginger....', Sgt Hoff knelt over his young squire gently slapping his cheek, 'Come on lad, Have you never seen a man rise from the dead before?'. Ginger laid prone on the sand, the occasional weak whine coming from him. 'Gi' me some room sgt' bellowed the muscular figure of Bear Maloy as he strode towards them, wooden bucket in hand. 'Ye may wanna stand back an' let a medic do his work'. Sgt Hoff just about scrambled clear as Bear reached ginger and dumped a bucket of sea water over the boys face.

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp

 As the lines clashed it dawned on the defenders of Cleft that the enemy were no mere men, they were walking bloody corpses!.  The smell of rotting flesh and death filled the air as the undead tore into them, using nothing more than claws and teeth, manic laughter coming from the figure advancing behind them.

  The unnatural enemy were too much for many of the militia to bear, some ran for safety!
'Leg it!!'

Seeing his line crack Captain Sloosh heft his sword and strode into the mele.

-The road north, just outside the town of Musky-Dripping
    With banners flying and trumpeters trumping the Steel Griffons rode north, Captain Stanley D'ballet and Sgt Darren Duran at their head. 'What a helpful fellow' mused Captain D'ballet, 'very eager to help i found'. 'Quite' replied Sgt Duran, 'Mind you, i'm not sure breaking both his arms was required'. 'I know Darren' Answered Captain D'ballet 'but you know Martin, he just enjoys his work too much some times, who am i to stop him when hes so happy?'.

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp

 Captain Sloosh lay about him left and right, limbs flying, flesh tearing as he went. Foul animated corpses fell to his fury!. He stopped briefly to catch his breath, weed and years cheating him of it in his exertion. He looked around slowly. It was then he realized he was surrounded.....

-The beach, Sandycrece

  Gingers eyes flung open as he flew to his feet in a blind rage, the bellows of laughter from the watching troopers ringing in his ears as he tried to blink away the water in his eyes, 'Wakey wakey laddie' laughed bear. Ginger fell to his knees, his faculties not yet together. Sgt Hoff put an arm on his shoulder. 'Try not to do too much lad' he offered. Ginger stared at him with his eyes wide, his mouth trying to form too many words at once. He finally managed a week ''. Sgt hoff pulled him to his feet. 'Walk with me for a moment Ginger, i think you may have some questions for me....'

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp

   The last thing Captain Sloosh felt were claws, too many claws dragging him down before darkness took him...
Sloosh falls!

All along the Millitia lines the story was the same, pockets of survivors outnumbered, the lucky ones ran, the rest......
The last stand of the Militia of Cleft.

-The lords chamber, Ballant keep

  Lord Ballent could not stop pacing. When would they send word?. His beloved daughter was out there goodness knows where with him, That roundstabout Hoff!. The name brought bile to his mouth!. The cheek of the man!, Invited into his keep, eating his food, drinking his good wine!!. Insulting him to his face before his household!. ESCAPING FROM HIS CELLS, TAKING HIS ONLY DAUGHTER HOSTAGE!. When would that bloody D'ballet sent word, or better still that bloody cads head!!.

-Outskirts of Cleft, militia camp

 From atop the wall he took in the scene. No longer would they doubt him!. They would see, they would kneel before him!. First the north then who knows what!. The dark cloaked figure raised his staff and beckoned to his charges. Slowly they shambled towards him, faces turned to him, empty eyes gazing into his. The fallen also rose, stumbling to their feet as if waking from a nightmare. They too assembled before him swelling the numbers of the horde.
 The horde
 Is hell it is...ITS ZOMBIE CAPTAIN SLOOSH!!!!

 He stood before his children, reveling in his own power. Nothing could stop him now, no one can stand in his way!. No one..ring ring....ring ring...Can resist his mighty...ring ring...'oh for gods sake!'. 

He reached into his robe and pulled out a glowing globe. He held it before his face before waving his hand theatrically over it. 'Hello...yes darling its, no we are all in i did not get myself maimed....yes i raised the enemy dead as i realize.....for gods sake sorry, no......look im.....of course i have time for you.......yes their all zombies.......nothing wrong with zom.....yes i know their are more see you you too............

.....To be continued.......

Tuesday 10 July 2018

Building blocks (that are in no way blocks for building)

 Guess who's a right ruddy doughnut then?!!.
(image from cooking light)

   Having a nice gentle kick about with the Sprinklings one lazy Sunday afternoon, i managed to do something akin to stepping forward slightly. I have stepped forward slightly a number of times in my life. I would go so far as to say i am quite adapt at doing so, i mean, i have performed far more tricky movements, sidestepping for example, or jogging on the spot, even the odd star jump when im feeling particularly sassy!. Stepping forward slightly if im honest i would have thought i had well and truly nailed. But no, the crunchy/poppy type sensation in my leg followed by the hopping and falling over and SEARING EFFING PAIN told me i was no longer the authority in stepping forward slightly i thought i was!. The upshot of not being an able stepping forward slightly type person is a torn calf muscle and a pair of crutches and.......wait for this one......several weeks of work in which i cant currently sit/stand at a table during to game!!!. Uurrrgghhhhhh!!!!!!! damn you not in any way complex or normally hazardous movement!!.

So its fair to say i'm board.

 I have polished off season 2 of Sons of Anarchy, Glen Cooks first 'Black Company' novel and almost worked on my mass battle rules. I have had loads of time to think about the games i want to play but cant and think about all the rebasing i am not doing!. But in the middle of all that i have had a little idea.

 Now i love writing narratives and back stories for factions and settings, it is one of the parts of this great thing we call 'the hobby' i like the best. However it can be hard to get a start sometimes. I also know that it is part of 'the hobby' a lot of people struggle with. So i thought it would be useful to create a way to randomly generate ideas for settings and forces to help along narratives. The idea is to make a loose 'nation generator' so people can roll up a start to a background to help them give a little character to their forces and to give a bit of context to a battle without having to go into too much detail. I have kept it simple and adaptable, only three tables long to provide just that small bit of seasoning to a campaign or one off game or to use when collecting an army to help form some identity for it.

So, here it is, Sprink's Underwhelmingbuthopefullyusefullpaitentedd8basednationalidetitygenerationsystem!!!!!!!!

  Right, this is split into three tables, roll 1d8 for each table to generate the nations SOCIAL TYPE,  TYPE OF RULER and MAJOR MOTIVATION. The hope is that these simple pieces of info will give character by themselves and a framework for the player to flesh out by working out how these things are represented in the army/nation.....we thats the theory anyhow!.

 So, pick up an 8 sided dice (or a 10 sided dice if your feeling that way and fancy ignoring the odd 9 or 0) and roll once on each of the following tables. Record the results and build ideas around them.

The tables are:

The table above is used to determine the nations social type and structure.
This one is purely used to select the method by which the nation is governed and by whom. 

The motivation of the ruler(s) determined above is the concern of this table, it is handy to use this one as it helps to determine the make up of the force and can be used to help with picking scenarios for the force to get involved in.

 So there you go, not very detailed but it is just to give a rough start and to create areas to flesh out with your own imagination. Hope it helps!.

 All thats left before i hobble off is to give a massive hello and welcome to Lalebrasil who clicked follow like a mad type person!. Feel free to say hello and introduce yourself in the comments and if you blog please put a link in there as its always great to see what your up to!. Right im off to feel sorry for myself, but first:

MORE DOUGHNUTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.......'till next time.....

Wednesday 4 July 2018

The Hassles of Hoff; 'Terror Rising pt1'

Previously on;

 The Famous fighting cocks lead by the brave sgt Quentin Hoff valiantly defended the sea side town of Sandycrece from an angry mob of sea raiders and their GIANT MAN EATING SEA CRAB!. however the action came at a cost, in the chaos of the mele sgt Hoff had been killed, his body lay dead, surrounded by his men.......

-Outskirts of cleft, militia camp-

 Dark shapes moved silently among the trees. At their head a robed figure stalked, intent on the small force shuddering around their camp fire just inside the clearing. A collection of tired old men and scared youngsters. Call this a militia?, hah!, he would crush them, more numbers to add to his flock. He stopped just short of the shadowy tree line, as one the mass of shapes following him stopped dead, some swayed as if unsure of their footing. The Robed figure smiled. He raised his arms dramatically, poised, ready to strike!.
-The beach, Sandycrece-

 The wind had strengthened, it whipped sand into Gingers tear covered face as he knelt over the body of his Sgt. 'We should bury him, give him a dignified sendoff' He said over his shoulder to the rest of the fighting cocks, most of whom were laughing and joking over their camp fires, drinking cheep wine and  tearing at roasting meat. 'I said we should give him a proper send off.....WHY WONT YOU LISTEN?, WHY DONT YOU CARE?!!' he wiped his face against his sleeve and jumped to his feet, storming towards the revel. 'HAVE YOU NO SHAME, YOUR SGT LAYS DEAD AND YOU MAKE MERRY, THE FINEST MAN AMONG YOU AND YOU CANT GIVE TWO SHITS FOR HIM?'. 'Calm down lad, slurred one of the solders through a mouthful of wine, keep ya fuckin powder dry kid......'

-The lords chamber, Ballent keep-

  '....So you see my position captin....captin....err......'
'D'ballett my lord, Captin Stanley D'ballet' replied the captin, bringing his attention back to the conversation, god these rich bastards could talk!. Just get on with the commission and we can get on with whatever it is you want us to do.
'D'ballet, yes, i think i served with your father in the Umaman, good man...fine mustache.'
'Lord Ballent, if we may return to your offer' said the second solder sat opposite shuffling a stack of parchment. He regarded the old lord with a kind of smirking arrogance that made the old man bristle, lord Ballent puffed out his ample chest and glared at Captin D'ballet. 'I did not catch your subordinates title captin' he spat.
' Sgt Darren Duran, dont mind him my lord, he offends everybody. Now if we can get back to your daughter, Lady Grace is it?, you say she vanished the same night as the Rampant Cocks escaped...'

-The beach, Sandycrece-

  Ginger marched on the revelers. 'WHY WONT YOU HELP, DONT YOU CARE YOU BLOODY ANIMALS!, HES DEAD, CANT YOU SEE HES DEAD!'. Hot tears ran down his young cheeks, half blinding him. He stomped towards a spit and up ended it sending its contents into the sand, he kicked over ale casks and piles of shields. Strong hands grabbed him round his waste and lifted him off the ground, 'What youz think youz dooin lad' asked Bear as he held him. 'No one gives a shit bear!' Ginger sobbed 'They wont even help bury him!'. 'Help who?' asked bear, swinging the youngster to see the spot where Sgt Hoffs body lay...where it used to lay....bear swung Ginger back around, a familiar weather beaten face filled his vision, twisting its grey mustache 'Now Ginger, i will not have such fuss in the ranks' barked a smiling  Sgt Hoff. As the laughter of the fighting cocks rang in gingers ears, he fainted.


-The lords chamber, Ballent keep-

 'So its agreed, the price is three hundred gold pieces to return Lady Grace and deliver the head of one Sgt Hoff.' Said captin D'ballet rising from his chair, his hand outstretched. Lord Ballent grasped it and shook it enthusiasticly. 'Champion, cant spare another man on this, need men i can trust to see this through, you come highly recomended'. 'The reputation of the Steel Griffons has travelled far i see, good, good. We will get to it right away. Sgt Duran'. The sgt thrust a contract across the table towards Lord Ballent, along with a quill. The Lord grabbed it and signed. 'Good show, very good' he said to himself. He handed back the papers and the two mercenaries turned to leave. 'God speed to the i mean steel griffons!'Lord Ballent cried as they went. For a second the men hesitated.


-Outskirts of cleft, militia camp-

    The robed figure swept his arms forward dramatically, a powerful wind burst forth sending the closest of the militia sprawling, it blew out their fire and torches. The men in the clearing were plunged into darkness. He sensed their fear, breathed it is as around him he could hear confused orders being barked. He only said one word....'NOW!', as one the figures under his control burst forth from the forest.......

  .......To be continued......

   That's part one, part two will contain things like miniatures and photos and all that good stuff. All that remains is to give a huge welcome to Mr lee Majors, the latest deranged individual to want to actually follow this bobbins!. Welcome sir!. As always feel free to say hello in the comments and of you blog please put a link in there as its great to check out what you get up to when not following this crud!.

......any who, till next time....

Sunday 1 July 2018

Building (plans for) building buildings (by) building buildings

As i may have mentioned in my last post i have become the owner of what can only be described as a f**ktonne of waste cardboard thanks to my local faceless northern european notevensoddingassembled furniture hellhole;

Waste cardboard in its natural habitat.

 Now the last time this happened i ended up making this:

 Now that has turned out to be a great little piece of 'utility' terrain but for the forthcoming campaign games it would be nice to have some other buildings. The castle was far less impressive a build than it looks, huge pieces of re-enforced card ended up being prefab walls covered in paper mache so it was actually quite simple (even i could cope with it!). It also represents my only terrain build to date so i think i will need to start rather small. With that in mind i have been serching the webbington o' worldes for ideas.

(image from history on the internet)

(image from pixhere)

 I reckon i need a few Olde Albilande executive rustic studio style dwellings ( or hovels as they are better known). They should be an easier way in to and help me learn as i go, i mean its not like they have to look neat or anything!. My previous technique of paper mashe over thick card should do the trick and provide 'rustic' texture (shite and straw bricks will have been lumpy i 'spose.....depending on old daisy's diet of course!). As i said in my previous post time is the biggest problem at the moment so im hoping the fact that i can build a few of these in stages may help me do bits and bobs in whatever time i can muster.

.......on a related note if you type Medieval hovel into google images you get this:
(image from myshared)

.....anyway, 'till next time.....