Saturday, 31 March 2012

Soaking carpets in the Nottingham Chainsaw Massacre

We're back in the weird and wonderful ways of Changeling: The Dreaming again, and we left off with an Epic Cliffhanger of DOOOOOOM, in which our friend Count Valdemar was held at knifepoint in his own home. Well, it didn't exactly pan out. He got his throat cut after all, and even though Flora tried to save him, she couldn't stop the bleeding.

On the plus side, the rest of the party brought down all the bad guys, so yay for us! Jack then found some papers, while Alysiana sneaked off to administer one of the super-mega-deluxe healing potions to the princess, with Finn and Flora a couple of minutes behind. Potion administered, the princess ... well, we've yet to find out, actually.

Needless to say, Set is awesome - even chainsaws can't bring him down! Now all we have to do is to not get caught in the middle of a number of Fae nobles who want to rule Nottingham. Or get arrested for the bloodbath that is currently Count Valdemar's residence. Maybe there's an old lady somewhere we can pin it on?

Sunday, 25 March 2012

Dude, where's my app?

Last week, we procrastinated. This week, we met an old, blind bloke who seemed to be on eerily good terms with the genestealers. He got what was coming to him - as did the Judge. Sneaky bastard. One of them was split in twain by a large sword, which made us all feel a lot better.

Eventually, after slaughtering a number of the Xenos scum (in their sleep, badass bonus points for us) we found our way to a couple of rooms - one, a greenhouse, the other, a walk-in freezer. Something managed to escape the greenhouse. The patriarch genestealer in the walk-in freezer ... is no more.

And as we went back up to the surface again, Brother Drem'Tu started to fix the ship Gyos crash landed last week. While this was going on, the magnetic storm had lifted and we could finally communicate with our superiors. After we had done that, this part of the adventure was concluded, so we have a few weeks break from Deathwatch now, and will get back to where we left Changeling on Tuesday.

Thursday, 15 March 2012

These boots were made for stompin'

When we're one player down and face certain death, there is a coping mechanism we tend to employ in the group. It's called "procrastinating until Death goes away". We've done it in Deadlands before, and now ... we just ended up talking all manner of bollocks just for our own amusement. All the while, of course, aware that the more we stall, the less chance there is of us getting killed in that particular session.

It very nearly failed to work, when the GM threw a bunch of genestealers on us. Nasty critters, they are. They pack a savage punch, and we took damage. Had it not been for a few strategically used Fate points, there would have been more body parts missing than just an eye. Or, as it turned out, having your leg very nearly shot off.

Before going into the next Xenos-battling, however, someone said that would be a good place to leave it, so that the missing player wouldn't miss out on as much. The other players quickly agreed, as did the GM. So now, battered and bleeding, we go into the next combat with a full squad.

Sunday, 11 March 2012

I had an Eldar and I eated it

Not a lot of quotes for this session, because we got started quite late, and then we spent a lot of time clobbering orcs over the head. And clobbering orcs doesn't give a lot of time over for other things. We were rather successful in the clobbering, however. Because we're awesome Space Marines, blessed by the Emperor. Obviously.

Oh, and one of them turned out to be an Eldar. We brought him back to the base and interrogated him. He didn't last long, but that really wasn't our fault. After all, he shouldn't have been a Xenos heretic in the first place.

Sunday, 4 March 2012

There's disciplin, and then there's DISCIPLIN

After a most epic battle which ended with us saving the Dreadnought (who had a convenient bit of amnesia, go fig), we continued through the desert, finding where someone had been spying on us. Then we went to the town where the Governor was supposed to have showed up if he hadn't got lost somewhere along the way.

Eventually, we found ourselves at the Rift, in a camp with a commander more than happy to execute his information officers. (Hence the mop and bucket. You'll see.) We also managed to recruit a poor young lad into the Imperial Guards. We'll see how that pans out. He might forgive us eventually. Maybe.