Ok you'll have to forgive me for once again trying your patience, but despite my best effort's I'm stuck writing the bloody aftermath once more
Ok so allow me to set the scene dear readers...
As you may have noticed, there's been the odd one or two threads about the meet up, nothing too high profile, as we Brit's are a quiet, low key group of fellows, who hate to draw attention to ourselves, as to do so would be vulgar!
But with a date set, and shedule to keep, we made our way to our secret destination in the wilds of Wolverhampton to keep a date with destiny...
The first of our elite group was young Squire Beneth, who had to leave his humble abode at an unearthy hour to come and pick me, his Lord and Master!, up in our chariot for the day, which will henceforth be know as the Salon of Wild Suspension
! So overloaded was our poor beast of burden, that on several occations, I'd have to throw my noble, well sculpted body, to one side or the other of the conveyance, to prevent it rolling over onto it's side in the corners (yes really!
After enduring several hours of my Squires appaling company, bad machine control, and poor personal hygiene, we retired to a charming little sevice station to use the facilities, upon entering the toilets, the charming shop assitant issued me a pair of wadders, and a peg for one's nose, as the toilet was sadly quite fouled
Meanwhile young Clown Jester Ryan
had managed to achieve passage on a steam locomotive without incuring the wraith of the Watch, who usually regard young Ryan with an unhealthy degree of suspicion, on account of his terrorist like look's. And after he left said train he encountered the Chief Modding Engineer to the Court of Micky, Sir Neil
. Where they both used one of Sir Neil's new fangled internal combustable engines, and with much haste they quit the evil station with it's smoke belching iron horses for the cheery abode of Sir Dave, Chief Supplier of Rusty Tool's to the Realm
, where they once again they transferred there wears, from one shoddy smokey conveyance to another, and with that done, made there way to our secret venue.
Meanwhile having divested myself of awkward bladder related baggage, and also a sizeable amount of crowns on some truly awful peasant fare for our journey ahead, I retired to our Salon of Wild Suspension
to eat the peasant snacks and give some oat's to Squire Beneth, when I spied the not quite so young Sir Gareth
! In all fairness, our galant Scotsman was not too difficult to spot, thanks to his long beard, tied back in iron bands, the long kilt, and the bulging sporan, but most strikingly of all was the claymore at his belt, and the blue war paint upon his face! After having aproached him carefully, as he does cut quite the fearsome figure, we found out that in a fit of Scottish fury, he'd slain his Squire, for a crass joke at poor Bravehearts expence! And so was in need of a Squire to direct him to the venue. Sadly I had to refrain from lending him mine, as Squire Beneth
was needed to direct my Most Royal of Personages to the meet!
So a compromise was reached, and Sir Gareth
would follow us in his war chariot for most of the way (he got lost
All the while Sir Nick Copperlot, Defender of the Crown Jewels( )
conversed with myself and the other dignatories, as to where we all where, so as to facilitate our smooth arrival.
After having found the site despite my Squire insistance on getting us lost at every opportunity, simpy because of his inability to follow the Fair Maiden GPS's
instructions, we were meeted and greeted by Sir Copperlot
and dirrected to where we would be spending the next 2 days
After showing us around the site which I'm (genuinly) not aloud to tell you about!, we settled in to a good long discussion about all thing's sharp and shiney, with a simply biblical number of Sak's, MT's, Knives and Axes on offer, and some very rare exotica at that too, while we waited for the other's to arrive.
And after about an hours wait, our errant adventures Sir Neil, Sir Dave, and Court Jester Ryan
arrived, shortly followed by Tamer of Ridiculously Fast MotorBikes Sir Phil
, and then there was much toolage fondleage
Thing's however were starting to look grim, as despite the glorious weather, there was no colour in our lives, as we're just men, fanastic example's, if more than a little ugly, but men nonetheless
We we're missing the Maidens...
And loe, after battling with a most virulent of pox's, they did return to us, and there was much rejoicing, as Lady Chris, and her fair Hand Maiden Lady Minty
, did brighten our lives
And now the meriment could begin in earnest!
But first I had to deliver some bitter sweet news, Sir Frances Dunc
could not make it to the meet
, as he was defending our trade against the tyranicle Spanish Fisherman!, but not to be outdone, he offered to provide the lucky winner of the a secret ballot, the chance to win a gorgeous Swisschamp!
This was to be decided later however, as first there was games to be played!Sir Gareth
produced a pair of throwing axes for our amusement, and after finding a suitable target (Ryan and Ben would have made too small a target) we found a small log to hurl the axes at with all the martial prowess at our disposal. All but Sir Coppalot
missed on our first try. We can only put it down to his having warmed up in the Royal Torture Rooms first, as his repeated hit's we're too consistant to be simple flukes, but we consoled our selfs with the fact that, though a warrior born, his interpersonal skill's leaved a lot to be desired, so much so that he aggrieved Lady Minty
so much so that she gave him a look so withering, that it would have castrated a lesser man!
So with the night drawing in, and with full stomachs, we needed a fire and a big one! Sir Copperlot
had constructed a very rickity raised fire pit, which though sound at the time, would cause no end of problems later on, but first we need the fire, so calling upon the bushcraft skills, matched only by Sir Bearly frauduntly Grilled
we set too getting the fire started all the while, Squire Ben and Jester Ryan
danced around the place with small black boxes that flashed annoyingly!Sir Gareth, Lady Minty and Lady Chris
and myself, set to spliting the wood for some feather sticks, and Lady Chris
who aparently dables in arcane alchemy, produced small grey/silver metal shavings, the once struck, seared into blinding, if short, life. All the while Sir Gareth and Sir Copperlot
attacked the log's with Claymore and my holy Kukri of Justice Lady Minty
asked if she could use my as yet untried and untested GB Mini Hatchet, and I agreed. So after having tied a beautiful paracord ribbon to it's haft, she struck the wood with a vengence, while cackling manically
So with night arrived, conversation flowed, it was time for the fair maidens to go, and dim our lives somewhat Sir Gareth
then uttered his unforgivable faux pas, to which there was much
the Ladies did take there leave...
Then suddenly, a fierce and feral howl rent the night air
The fair maidens, naturally clung to me for protection, as apart from my shere physical power, I was clutching the Royal Paddle of arse whipping
So with the maidens clinging to me, yet bravely now armed, we advanced on the sound, closely followed by the other, lesser men, now shamed by my, and the maidens example of courage
In the near total dark, and with just the light of the fire and the ocational strobing fenix to guide us, our fur clad tormenters revealed themselves
A score or more of lupine shapes emerged from the gloom, with teeth beared, and hackles raised, they advanced on us at the run, Wolves!
That ancient and primordial enemy of all that's good and righteous in the world
Mustering into a wedge formation with myself at it's tip, as befits my status as a natural leader of men (and Fair Maidens) we gave battle, despite the unforgetable aroma of some of the younger amongst us voiding there bowels
, the first wolf lept atLady Chris
who produced another handful of hot balls, and cast them into the hoard, immolating several of the fiend's, to my left Lady Minty
eviserated one wolf from groin to sturnum with the Mini Hatchet, and cleft a second's skull in two on the return pass. The youth that was Squire Ben and Jester Ryan
twisting and turned around the wolves, striking left and right with borrowed Sebbie's, at a speed that was dizziying to the older and more broken amoungst us.Sir Dave
was busying himself by burying LM Charges into the exposed flanks of the wolves, using the Realtree camo Charges to steel upon his opponents Sir Neil
far from idle was throwing broken, half modded, sak's into the hoard, the 91's making a particularly satisfying 'thwacking' noise as they penetrated the hide's of the beasts!Sir Phil
using the reflexes born of riding scary mortorbikes, defended and reposted, with a grace born of years of stunting Sir Gareth
became lost to the redmist that so curses his bloodline
, with an angry howl of his own, the equal of that of the wolves, he wadded in with his Claymore, decapitating, evisterating, and disembowling with every arc of his most lethal of blades, carving a red ruin with every step he made
But where was Sir Copperlot
? had he fallen to the claws of out adversaries? Or had he given into his basest instinct's and turned tail, and run?...
NO! With a mighty neigh, our attention was drawl to a might Bretonian Steed of pure white, that went by the mighty name of Murph. And upon it's broad back, sat a warrior of huge beer fuelled physique, with long golden hair that cascaded over his police issue armour plate.
With a bold Yah
he spurred might Murph into a gallop, smiteing the remaining foes with his array of Kirridasi's, and trampling the remained under Murph's emmence hoves!
So with our nemesis driven before us, we assembled at the Fair Maidens royal blue conveyance, and after a powerful and tear choked embrace, they left us, to lick our wounds, and to stare out into the cold, cold night...
Then the Fire pit gave way, spilling embers everywhere, and much destruction was wraught! And with that we retired to out sleeping chambers.
And cold it was, certainly it was arround freezing, and none of our might troop got much in the way of rest
But the morning came, and after righting the fire, and eating a hearty meal of Pot Noodle, we set about putting the world to right's, discussing tool's, and the forum that is MT.O
Then with heavy heart's it was time to break camp and set of on our respective long trek's home Sir Dave
called me over to his Battle Wagon, I assumed it was to help him lift his Warchest of rusty LM Ammo, but no, I was simply needed to kick the Jester Ryan
back into the glove compartment, to free up some much needed room
And so we we're for the off, first to go was our now gore clad Sir Gareth
then the rest of us followed suit
All factual joking aside, i had an absolutly great time, and i'd like to thank everyone for there time in making it such a great event
Special thanks should go to Dave for the wonderful wood Scaled Climbers, and to Neil for the Whistles (let's hope Nick looses his before the next meet
) and Ryan for his lanyard
And thanks you Gareth for the Ferro rod, I'll treasure it mate