Pendraken 25th

[Ithoriel]

You're good eating for a 'raptor...

FIFY

[toxicpixie]

Nah, they're less fearsome than the pack of hounds I lived with. Although never mind my flat mates, the dogs were scarier too!

[d_Guy]

Threads are Rorschach tests. Feel a need for lightening the mood. At this point a map of Turkey would not be remiss.

Oh, Pixie, added a "feathered fox" to Top Totty in your honor.

It goes without saying that Pendraken has infinitely more to celebrate on the 25th than to regreat!

[FierceKitty]

Threads are Rorschach tests. Feel a need for lightening the mood. At this point a map of Turkey would not be remiss.

Oh, Pixie, added a "feathered fox" to Top Totty in your honor.

It goes without saying that Pendraken has infinitely more to celebrate on the 25th than to regreat!

To regreat - is that what Trump claims he wants to do with America?

[fsn]

FSN was so excited. He pressed his nose to the window, hoping to see the post-person.

"What are you looking at?" Growled Grandpa Techno. "Get back in the house." Grandma Techno giggled.

"Grandpa Techno?" queried FSN.

"Shuttup and give me my medicine." Dutifully, FSN handed Grandpa Techno the bottle of Jack Daniels medicine. Grandpa Techno hadn't been out of bed for 14 years, due to some unspoken malady. Grandma Techno had joined him some years later, and now they just stayed in bed all the time, drinking their medicine.

"Grandpa Techno?" queried FSN again, once a sufficient glaze had crossed his supposed antecedents eyes.

"Wut?"

"I'm worried about Grandma Techno." Grandma Techno giggled.

"Why?"

"Well, she doesn't look like she did last week." Grandpa Techno peered at Grandma Techno.

"Looks the same to me."

"Well last week, she was blonde."

"Dye job."

"And the week before she spoke with a Polish accent."

"Bang on the head. Side effect of the medicine."

"Well, now ... she's black." Grandpa Techno looked at Grandma Techno. Grandma Techno giggled. She snuggled closer to Grandpa Techno.

"She looks OK to me. You must be misremembering. Now put on some Rick Wakeman and go play with yourself." Dutifully, FSN put on his ear defenders, flipped on "The Six Wives of Henry VIII" and slipped from the room. "Really", he thought, "I must clean up the spillage".

In his own broom cupboard, FSN sighed. He turned on the candle and surveyed his collection of Pendraken Miniatures. Oh how he loved his Pendraken Miniatures. He didn't have very many, but he loved each one as much as he knew how. He was sure that the owner of the Pendraken Factory and Cave Complex, Leon Lonka, kissed each little metal man as he left for a life in the wide world.
FSN sighed. Oh to be as eternally young as Leon Lonka. To be as wise and as rich and as handsome. Still, thought FSN, bloke couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but there you go, can't have everything.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the doorbell. FSN started and rushed from his broom cupboard to the front door.

There stood the Creepy Postman.

"Hello Creepy Postman!" said FSN, uncertainly. "Have you got something for me?"

"Any time." Replied the Creepy Postman. He paused for an uncomfortable length of time, then pressed a package into FSN's hand.

"Just my parcel please." Said FSN primly. He was about to ask for the post, but he'd been caught like that before. The postman handed FSN a familiar brown jiffy bag.

"It's come, it's come" Cahooed FSN, and slammed the door in the Creepy Postman's face before he could bring the thread even further into disrepute.

FSN sat at the kitchen table. "Really", he thought, "We ought to buy a chair." FSN hardly dared open the envelope. He knew it was from Pendraken, but he'd placed the order in July, and so was eligible for an entry in the Golden Dragoon! "I wonder if this is how the Creepy Postman started?" wondered FSN. Brushing aside such dark thoughts he ripped open the package.
Out spilled lots of that grey-brown powdery stuff.  FSN's allergy kicked in, and he barely got to his epi-pen in time.

Suitably attired in hazmat suit, facemask and breathing apparatus, FSN carefully disposed of the grey-brown powdery stuff. Then he examined the proper contents of the package.
"Centurion, Centurion AVRE, Centurion side skirts, Sho't, Centurion Bridgelayer. Centurion." FSN sighed his pleasure. He carefully put aside the invitations to the exotic places that Leon Lonka went – St Helens, Falkirk, Durkam – Grandpa Techno liked to use them in his special medicinal cigarettes, and felt a moment of sadness as there was no Golden Dragoon.

"Oh well." Sighed FSN, stoically, "perhaps in another 25 years." Somewhat dishearted, he prodded the contents of the Centurion bridgelayer. "Chassis, bridge, thing, bit, other thing, no idea, wheel? ... " As he moved the pieces around, he noticed one of them had become scratched. A tiny fleck of yellow showed through. Not daring to breathe, FSN reached for the scalpel. He scratched away at the yellow. More grey paint flecked away, the yellow became gold ... FSN passed out.

"Must remember to breathe" he said to himself as he regained consciousness. Then he remembered the golden part. Remembering to breathe, he scratched away, and as he did so, a tiny golden figure emerged.

"Grandpa Techno!" He yelled! "I've got the Golden Dragoon!"

"I had that in '78. Whatever you do, don't pour melted butter on it!" FSN filed that away as more useful information from his sage forebear.

"I've got the Golden Dragoon! I'm going to see Leon Lonka and the Pendraken Factory and Cave Complex!"

[O Dinas Powys]

FSN was so excited. He pressed his nose to the window, hoping to see the post-person.

"What are you looking at?" Growled Grandpa Techno. "Get back in the house." Grandma Techno giggled.

"Grandpa Techno?" queried FSN.

"Shuttup and give me my medicine." Dutifully, FSN handed Grandpa Techno the bottle of Jack Daniels medicine. Grandpa Techno hadn't been out of bed for 14 years, due to some unspoken malady. Grandma Techno had joined him some years later, and now they just stayed in bed all the time, drinking their medicine.

"Grandpa Techno?" queried FSN again, once a sufficient glaze had crossed his supposed antecedents eyes.

"Wut?"

"I'm worried about Grandma Techno." Grandma Techno giggled.

"Why?"

"Well, she doesn't look like she did last week." Grandpa Techno peered at Grandma Techno.

"Looks the same to me."

"Well last week, she was blonde."

"Dye job."

"And the week before she spoke with a Polish accent."

"Bang on the head. Side effect of the medicine."

"Well, now ... she's black." Grandpa Techno looked at Grandma Techno. Grandma Techno giggled. She snuggled closer to Grandpa Techno.

"She looks OK to me. You must be misremembering. Now put on some Rick Wakeman and go play with yourself." Dutifully, FSN put on his ear defenders, flipped on "The Six Wives of Henry VIII" and slipped from the room. "Really", he thought, "I must clean up the spillage".

In his own broom cupboard, FSN sighed. He turned on the candle and surveyed his collection of Pendraken Miniatures. Oh how he loved his Pendraken Miniatures. He didn't have very many, but he loved each one as much as he knew how. He was sure that the owner of the Pendraken Factory and Cave Complex, Leon Lonka, kissed each little metal man as he left for a life in the wide world.
FSN sighed. Oh to be as eternally young as Leon Lonka. To be as wise and as rich and as handsome. Still, thought FSN, bloke couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but there you go, can't have everything.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the doorbell. FSN started and rushed from his broom cupboard to the front door.

There stood the Creepy Postman.

"Hello Creepy Postman!" said FSN, uncertainly. "Have you got something for me?"

"Any time." Replied the Creepy Postman. He paused for an uncomfortable length of time, then pressed a package into FSN's hand.

"Just my parcel please." Said FSN primly. He was about to ask for the post, but he'd been caught like that before. The postman handed FSN a familiar brown jiffy bag.

"It's come, it's come" Cahooed FSN, and slammed the door in the Creepy Postman's face before he could bring the thread even further into disrepute.

FSN sat at the kitchen table. "Really", he thought, "We ought to buy a chair." FSN hardly dared open the envelope. He knew it was from Pendraken, but he'd placed the order in July, and so was eligible for an entry in the Golden Dragoon! "I wonder if this is how the Creepy Postman started?" wondered FSN. Brushing aside such dark thoughts he ripped open the package.
Out spilled lots of that grey-brown powdery stuff.  FSN's allergy kicked in, and he barely got to his epi-pen in time.

Suitably attired in hazmat suit, facemask and breathing apparatus, FSN carefully disposed of the grey-brown powdery stuff. Then he examined the proper contents of the package.
"Centurion, Centurion AVRE, Centurion side skirts, Sho't, Centurion Bridgelayer. Centurion." FSN sighed his pleasure. He carefully put aside the invitations to the exotic places that Leon Lonka went – St Helens, Falkirk, Durkam – Grandpa Techno liked to use them in his special medicinal cigarettes, and felt a moment of sadness as there was no Golden Dragoon.

"Oh well." Sighed FSN, stoically, "perhaps in another 25 years." Somewhat dishearted, he prodded the contents of the Centurion bridgelayer. "Chassis, bridge, thing, bit, other thing, no idea, wheel? ... " As he moved the pieces around, he noticed one of them had become scratched. A tiny fleck of yellow showed through. Not daring to breathe, FSN reached for the scalpel. He scratched away at the yellow. More grey paint flecked away, the yellow became gold ... FSN passed out.

"Must remember to breathe" he said to himself as he regained consciousness. Then he remembered the golden part. Remembering to breathe, he scratched away, and as he did so, a tiny golden figure emerged.

"Grandpa Techno!" He yelled! "I've got the Golden Dragoon!"

"I had that in '78. Whatever you do, don't pour melted butter on it!" FSN filed that away as more useful information from his sage forebear.

"I've got the Golden Dragoon! I'm going to see Leon Lonka and the Pendraken Factory and Cave Complex!"

and 

but definitely 



Cheers,

Meirion

[Techno]

Nobby......

You are SUCH an OIK !!

Cheers - Grandpa.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

 

[Sandinista]

 

[Techno]

Stop encouraging him ! 

Cheers - Phil.

[Westmarcher]

[Too late!]   

[toxicpixie]

I don't think he needs any encouragement, he's fine all on his own!

[DFlynSqrl]

 

[d_Guy]

To regreat - is that what Trump claims he wants to do with America?

 

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes

[d_Guy]

 

The traveling mountebank minstrel, has returned to the village square to sing the "Lay of the Little Men" and all is now right with the world. Bravo!