WebLogs

I turned up at the Club tonight just after 10pm to catch up with everyone, and was delighted to see a familiar face from a few years ago sitting in Gareth’s game of “Corporation: Assault on Redemption“. I first encountered Oliver in days of yore when the old Club used to meet in the back bar of the ‘King Edward VII‘ pub in Stratford; he was embarking on an acting career and was between paying jobs at the time. Probably the best fun I’ve ever had when running role-playing games is when a player totally immerses themselves in their character, because it often seems to encourage other players to do likewise and provides me with hours of innocent amusement!

I still remember kicking off a random encounter for a fairly large group, whom I seem to recall were facing a company of Bandits at the time…or was it Kobolds…?! I called for initiative rolls and intended actions from the players after the first combat round, listening to the merry cries of “I draw my sword…”, “I reach for an arrow…”, “I ready my fireball…”, “I drop my battleaxe…”, “I call upon the Gods…”, ” I run away terribly quickly…” and so on…

In amongst all this mayhem, I heard Oliver’s plaintive voice say “You ignorant peasants! You’ve torn my doublet! Do you morons have any idea how much these things cost…?” a remark which reduced several of the people sitting around the table to gentle hysterics! I’ve only ever met a couple of other people like him that I’ve been fortunate enough to run games for; decent actors really help a story to come alive and make the Dungeon Master’s life so much easier!

…until they’re not there; on Tuesday evening last week I popped into the pub for a swift pint or two on my way home, and was delighted to meet up with Chris Morson. He’d been out visiting his friend Jean in Plaistow and was feeling in need of some fortification before facing the bus service back to Stratford! We sat and chatted, and after a while he told me that he’d been to see Jean that evening because they’d had far too close a brush with the Grim Reaper a day or so before.

On Sunday last, Chris and Jean, who is a wheelchair user, had spent the day in central London and were on their way home. Nearing her home in Plaistow, they had to cross the road from Plaistow to Stratford, just south of Manor Road, by means of a pedestrian crossing. They waited for the red light to stop the traffic and the green man signal, and started to make their way across the road. At that moment a couple came round the corner in a Ford Fiesta at high speed; Chris said that he could see the guy was never going to manage to stop the car in time, so he started to turn Jean’s wheelchair away from the impending collision. The oncoming driver slammed on the brakes but still went through the red light at about 20mph, ploughing into Jean and Chris on the crossing. Jean ended up on the pavement under her broken wheelchair, with a bruised and battered Chris on top of the heap, having left a large dent in the wing of the Ford Fiesta and having also, in his own words, “broken his nearside headlamp with my arse!” The driver of the Fiesta told them, and later the Police as well, that he’d been looking at some people on the opposite pavement and hadn’t noticed the red light; I wonder how well that admission is going to go down in Court…

As you can probably tell, this story has a happy ending, in that Chris and Jean ended up with various scrapes and bruises but were otherwise unharmed. However, the outcome could have been very different indeed; we should all give thanks that things didn’t turn out any worse than they did…

..”the grass is ris, I wonder where the birdies is?” I know that the official first day of Spring doesn’t come until March 21st, but try telling that to the birds on the new RSPB Rainham reserve in East London! This opened to the public about eighteen months ago on Aveley marsh, well inside the M25, and is only 20 minutes drive along the A13 from Plaistow; I now have little excuse for not visiting at least once a week and getting a decent outdoor walk to blow away the cobwebs and work off some of the beer! It’s not the most beautiful place in the country, being bordered to the north by the Eurostar, the C2C railway line to Fenchurch Street and the A13; it features scenic views of electricity pylons, the Dagenham wind turbines in the distance and a green hill, currently being re-landscaped by the local Council, that used to be the largest landfill site for miles around. However, despite all the light industrial blight in the near distance, it is still one of the last surviving examples of the mediaeval grazing marshes that used to serve London, and has suffered relatively little from human interference due to a hundred years of use as a military range, from Victorian times up to a couple of decades ago. Birds don’t pay much regard to scenery; the marsh is a haven for wildfowl, gulls, waders and about 7000 water voles, about 10% of the entire UK population!

I went to Rainham this afternoon for a walk; whether it honestly has anything to do with global warming is beyond me, but the Springtime does seem to be arriving earlier every year. Many of the Lapwings, Golden Plover and Wigeon that spend most of the winter on the marsh and were there in large numbers up to last weekend had moved on by today, and the first summer migrants are returning from the south. I was somewhat surprised to see a bull Grey Seal surface in the River Thames alongside the reserve, as I’ve only ever been fortunate enough to see them before in the deep ocean waters of the West Country. That makes two good animal sightings there in a week; last week Mark and I watched a Weasel hunting along one of the banks on the marsh, running through the grass stems and popping its head above the vegetation every ten feet or so like a miniature gun turret! It took cover pretty quickly when a passing Kestrel started hovering overhead, but for a brief moment we had a great view of one of our true predators, small and savage, a rare glimpse of wildness in a post-industrial world…

Back in 2006, our good friends Fireroot and Liz got married; this report of proceedings appeared on the Club website shortly afterwards. When our beloved Web Tyrant reconfigured the site it disappeared from the archives; one or two people have suggested that I put it back, and here seems as good a place as any…

All this and Fireroot’s wedding too…

“Gather round ye people and I shall tell of the second day of September, when seven doughty adventurers went boldly forth into the barbarian Lands of Mid, unto the Manor of Edgbaston in the fabled City of Brum, to bear witness to the wedding of our companion Fireroot to the fair Lady Elizabeth. Gilrean the Wise had journeyed forth on the day before in her blue chariot made by the dwarven artificers of Vaux Hall, as did Arakor Nicodemus the Dancing Master and his spouse the Lady Myrrha in their brand new silver chariot from the far and mysterious East. Wintermute the Sage, after consulting the ancient scrolls of Ordnans Urvay, God of Travellers, elected to drive his trusty gilded chariot by way of the caravan route (and there were lots of caravans, mostly in the wrong lane!) known as the Emforte which approaches the City of Brum from the south side, thereby avoiding the brigands and legions of the lost that infest the older routes called Emwun and Emsyx. His brave and noble companions on the road were Dragonheart the Navigator and Gabriel the Gnome.

Mark the Barbarian, last and bravest of those who set forth into the wilderness, chose to make the journey by public oxcart and made very good time, although his later comments about the cramped conditions within the onboard privy were blunt to say the least!

Wintermute and his companions were beset with poor weather upon their journey. The rain was pouring down, the west wind was blowing like the Marquis de Death after a good curry, and yea verily did the travellers believe that somebody somewhere had seriously upset a Rain God! Nevertheless Ordnans Urvay continued to smile upon them, and the many wayside shrines extolling the virtues of Banx, the Mild-Mannered God of Beer and Brewing, showed them that they had indeed chosen their route wisely and were drawing nigh unto the City of Brum. Dragonheart the Navigator proved himself to be well worthy of his title, and the three pilgrims soon arrived at their plain and simple hostelry upon the green Bank of Maples in Edgbaston, next to the canal, upon which they noted the barges of the Bovril smugglers plying their trade under the cover of the many trees that lined the banks.

Gilrean the Wise also encountered difficulties, having been rudely disturbed in the privacy of her shower late on the evening before the wedding by the sorcerous intervention of the dreaded wizard Phyar Larm, thus finding herself standing out in the public courtyard of a City inn wearing just a skirt, two bath towels and a smile!

Wintermute felt quite at home in the City, particularly when he noticed a party of fighters approaching wearing the claret and blue tunics of the powerful Hammers tribe from the West of his homeland. However, a shiver ran down his spine as he realised that rather than the familiar rallying battle cry of “Come On You Irons” that he was expecting, these strange barbarians were bellowing “Orright, Yampy!” in a most peculiar accent that he had never encountered before. Upon closer scrutiny, these uncouth warriors were revealed to be a cohort of legionaries from the Villa of Aston, a local tribal stronghold, apparently searching for a Pot of Gold. Wintermute, remembering quiet words of great wisdom from his old friend Morson the Bard concerning these people, wisely decided to keep silent at this point in time…

At last the weary travellers all met up at the Chapel of St George in Edgbaston, and found a fair and goodly throng gathered under big umbrellas to witness the nuptials of Fireroot and his Lady Elizabeth; all those present were agreed that this was most pleasing in the sight of the Gods. The bride was fair and radiant in her gown of white silk, with her hair cunningly gathered up and set by the Lady Myrrha beforehand. Liz looked beautiful, and it is only fair to say that the groom, resplendent in his vivid pink waistcoat, also seemed to scrub up pretty well!

After the ceremony, the wedding party and their guests made their way through the driving rain unto the Great Hall of Sages at the University for the wedding feast, where wonderful food and drink was served. The Lord Keith, proud father of the bride, spoke with great fondness concerning the happy couple and offered pearls of wisdom to the groom, saying that marriage was a partnership of equals in which the bride generally held 51% of the shares; Arakor was heard to mutter something about 95% being more like it! The party then continued with lots more wine and food, dancing, merriment and beer late into the night. Arakor Nicodemus and the Lady Myrrha showed us all how to dance properly, Dragonheart and Gabriel showed us all how to dance with enthusiasm, and the less said about Wintermute’s dancing the better! As the festivities drew to an end, Arakor Nicodemus revealed to all concerned that he had stoutly resisted the blandishments of the God Banx, and was therefore well capable of steering his chariot safely home without attracting the undue attention of the dreaded City Watch. His kind and generous offer of transport back to various lodgings was well received by his fellow travellers, especially as the Brum monsoon still showed no signs of abating!

Mark had gone home by oxcart late in the evening. His southward journey back along the Emforte to the City of Smoke was delayed mightily by an encounter with the notorious RodeWurx tribe of Orcs, well known for ambushing travellers late at night; he eventually returned to civilisation at four o’clock in the morning! Sunday morning dawned sunny, bright and breezy, which is much more than could be said for one or two people; the remaining travellers set out for home. Wintermute and his companions made good time, after stopping at a wayside tavern near the hamlet of Selly Oak for a proper Hobbit-sized breakfast, during which Gabriel the Gnome was introduced to Black Pudding for the first time! Road-weary but satisfied, the travellers finally arrived back at the Manor of Plaistow at three in the afternoon.”

Finally, many thanks and congratulations are due to Paul and Liz; may they enjoy many long and happy years together!

…or typed anyway! I’ve never had one of these blog thingies before, so I am approaching the concept of baring my soul in public with more than a little trepidation, risking the pitfalls of, to quote the excellent John Kovalic in his comic collection ‘Dork Shadows‘, “The Information Age: letting you look like twice the idiot in half the time“!

For those of you who don’t know me, I was born in Bristol far more years ago than I choose to admit, the oldest child of five; I have ten nephews and nieces! I spent most of my formative years in Southern England, in Berkshire and later in a town called Lymington, between the New Forest and the sea. I was lucky to have a good and thoroughly mixed education, being fond of geography and history in particular, and spent much of my childhood and later teens reading (I discovered JRR Tolkien at a very early age!), birdwatching, messing about in boats, stooging about in the great outdoors and listening to electric folk and rock music; things I still like to do now. I came to London to live in 1982 and have been here ever since. I manage a wine shop for a living and currently share a rented house in Plaistow with my mate Mark and three allegedly domestic moggies called Tigger, Chloe and Bandit!

My friend Ian introduced me to ‘Dungeons and Dragons‘ in 1982; in January 1983 I met his friend Russell from Shrewsbury, who was putting together a game of AD&D set in a world of his own creation that he called Karsac. Russell, a great guy and possibly the most devious DM I’ve ever met, was a history teacher in Much Wenlock and ran a deadly game with a rich and involved political background; I played his game by post, meeting up for weekend mayhem and gallons of beer a couple of times a year, for the next four years! At its peak, Russell was running at least ten players with fourteen player characters, turning round a letter a month each; bear in mind this was before personal computers were generally available to help with the workload and record-keeping!

Not surprisingly, work pressures and marriage led to Russell stopping the game in 1987, and for the next couple of years I didn’t game much at all. Then in 1990, three of us who were then all working for Hamley’s of Regent Street decided that what we all needed was a regular game again; Matt, aka The Marquis de Death, and Colin decided that I should be the DM. We played with ‘Forgotten Realms’ for a bit, then a few months down the line I decided to ressurect those bits of Karsac that I had access to, drew brand new maps and did a lot of work on the religions that Russell had never really got around to developing. In various shapes and forms Karsac has run since then on a fairly regular basis, both within the club and as an independent group. Many players over the years have contributed to the richness of the world and the stories therein. The initial campaign ran for nine years!

I still love gaming; games I’ve played in the last couple of years include Tekumel, Call of Cthulhu, Runequest, Star Trek and most recently Castles and Crusades. I have been the Chairman of The Phoenix Games Club for the last three years. Karsac is no longer a campaign game as such, but merely the environment in which I set my games. These days I prefer to run shorter scenarios for the Club or for events such as Dragonmeet. In this blog, I’ll put anything to do with my current gaming in its own category.The section titled ‘Tales from Karsac’ was suggested by Chris Morson, and is where I hope to put down some things from that world in story form, written in sections as and when I get the time. Watch this space…