Night of the Living Lead - Missing it and other Tragedies

This post was of course inspired by Bulldoglopez's "BOYL - A Spectator's Review"

If you haven't read that post - go away and do that now, because it's brilliant. I dare say this Blog won't have been taken down / banned for at least several weeks yet so you have a little time.

The most bloody Battle of Ontwoot ("The Gathering of Dragons") from the "War of the Flowers" - illustration by myself based on Gary Chalk's "Gathering of Eagles" illustration from a battle report in White Dwarf 120  

On Saturday 27th October 2018, a bunch of selfish reprobates gathered at Foundry in Newark for what has become known as "Night Of The Living Lead", one of two regular games the so-called "Warlords of Albion" play outside of Bring Out Your Lead. "NOTLL" as we call it, is usually played around Halloween. "Lead of Winter" being played at the end of February or the beginning of March. 

And I'm usually there.

To be honest this doesn't look the kind of game I'd like to be involved in anyway. Too many guys with too many hands close to their groins.

For various reasons which I'm still in a bit of a sulk over, I had to miss this one. Instead I was wandering around Covent Garden with Mrs Street on her last Saturday in the UK for a while. Those that know me know well, know that - along with the South Bank - this is my least favourite part of my city. A place where I am inhibited from walking down streets I know well by slow-moving tourists as they press their faces into large paper maps - seemingly unaware that smartphones have been invented, and then falling over them as they stop dead in the street to take pictures of things like pigeons on £5k cameras.

I did at least get to destroy one tourist - a 2lb Nova-Scotian lobster which by the time it arrived on my plate had a carbon footprint the size of a small tribe of yetis. 

Nothing says London like eating a Canadian Lobster, served up by a Mexican chef, delivered to your table by a Bulgarian waitress so that you can have funzies with your half-African / half Indian wifey and your Irish / Scottish / Bangladeshi / Caribbean / Moroccan mates - and an English Chelsea fan who we had to include for PC reasons to make us look diverse.

But enough of this shit weekend, let talk about NOTLL again. Specifically, the last time it was good (i.e. the last time I was there):

I look forward to the game from about the time the last Foundry game finishes and I'm waiting in the Newark Wetherspoons to get the train back to Kings Cross.

I promise to paint 3,000 points by the time of the next get-together and over four months paint about ten chaps.

As the day approaches, Facebook starts to remind me of "my memories" as if I don't need to actually remember anything for myself anymore. "This time in 2017 you were in the Railway Café in West Drayton on your way to NOTLL and this is what happened." Thanks Facebook.

"Saturday, 14th October 2017, 645am, I'm on the way to NOTLL and watching a Somalian guy asleep face down in a burger in the railway cafe and "Wannabe" comes on the radio. The song always makes me smile. Reminds me of being a kid (well 21) working selling lottery tickets in the Harlequin shopping centre in Watford.

There was this crazy Spanish woman who cleaned the floors and the toilets, always telling us her daughter was gonna be famous one day. Then she wouldn't have to work this shitty job anymore. We used to laugh at her and call her a deluded old bird. She'd laugh with us and say that we'd see one day.

Then one Saturday she comes in and says it's her last day. She's gonna tell them to fuck off and no more cleaning and sweeping the floors. We laughed at her as usual and told her we'd see her tomorrow but we never did.

Tomorrow was Sunday 14th July 1996 and Wannabe entered the charts at number 3. The following Sunday it was number 1. And her daughter was Geri Halliwell."

I finish my coffee and some toast, Then I take the GWR train into Paddington. The Circle Line to King's Cross and then the train from King's Cross to Newark North Gate.

Some poor bastard has to get up slightly earlier than they would normally have to, to pic me up from Newark Northgate and drive me to Foundry. Much love to Chris Howell, Phil Scott, Tom Reynolds et al. I dearly love you.

Arriving at foundry you find that Warlordpaul and Orlygg are already there and both are so calm and considered that they convince you that they set up the table the weekend beforehand and they've been sleeping in the stable ever since.

As always the table looks amazing and various members have brought their beautifully painted toys. On this occasion we are fighting the latest chapter of our narrative campaign of "Little Albion". After the battles of "Far Corfe", the triumph of the evil Albion demon "Breakshit", the Wars of the Flowers, the Battle of the Bulbs and other improbably massive pub car-park punch-ups on Foundry's 10 foot by 5 foot (?) table. 

With little or no elves in my collection, my contribution to the game was to bring a scratch built church with some Wilko tea-lights inside.

As the (frankly evil) Stuart Klatcheff destroys the village just off-pciture, the cheating hands of Thantsants move cold-one riders much further than they are legally permitted.

The battle rages from maybe 10:30 till 4pm. At some point during this time Thantsants shows up late blaming a faulty turbo on his DeLorean or a faulty back panel on his magic wardrobe in Narnia. He has failed at least once in traversing the high pass of Caradhras because the wrath of the Redhorn fell on his Landrover.

 WarlordPaul weighs up the dice as next to him Andy Atom Taylor apple-bobs in a green crate filled with cider.

I needn't have worried one bit about just bringing a church as my buddy Chris owns all the elves ever. Ever thought you needed four elven attack chariots? Anyone else have four Ral Partha ones? Just for a bit of extra muscle he brought every dragon in existence.

"Elfcetter"

As usual, my good chum Orlygg is there simply for the social side. He brings a whole bunch of lovely models and then leaves them idling on the side of the table looking pretty (or in this case chaos ugly). If you're wondering why there seems to be Chaos, Dark Elves and Elves all on the same side it's because the sorceresses that both sides have in their ranks have cast "glamours" on the rank and file of both armies, and no-one is sure who is who! 

"We've come all that way from the Northern Chaos Wastes just to stand around!"

Never bring a griffin to a dragon fight. A lesson Tom Reynolds has learned and perhaps will never forget!

"Has anyone seen the remains of a Kentucky-Fried Griffin?"

Finally of course, there is always the chance for Orlygg to conspire with Warlordpaul to kill whichever weird, rare and wonderful models Steve Casey has brought with him. He should know better by now...but...well on this occasion it was "If I roll a six, my Chaos Dwarf bazooka team fire a shell straight into your biggest giant's face - thus killing him instantly." Of course the roll took place while Steve was in the bathroom. Of course it did!

"In your face..." the jolly green giant knows not what his way comes.

In the end we're never really sure who has won, we only know that we had fun. Blogs get written and (sometimes) I draw pictures - trying to ape the style of the Oldhammer artists. While smart-arses comment saying - "HEY...THAT LOOKS LIKE A GARY CHALK DRAWING!!!", and then get annoyed when I say...yeah, I know...that's kinda the point.

So whatever happened last weekend, I'm still in a sulk. And I hate everyone that made it down to Foundry. At this point in time, none of those selfish attendees has managed a blog or anything more than a rudimentary snap of the castle. 

Like I said. Selfish.

As Bulldoglopez once almost said:

"I'll see you at Lead of Winter you fuckers"