Lions and Tigers and... Camels... Oh my!

So, here's another update for those of you who have been eagerly (or perhaps not so eagerly) awaiting more news from the Western Front. We played another session of Call of Cthulhu last night. I won't bore you with all the details - but I feel I must make note of a few gems.

Dawn breaks (crash!) on an unassuming port town in the Algiers. By now, Eric (myself) has regained consciousness... just about, and wanders up on deck to survey a scene or carnage and destruction - one which he has no idea has come about, but has his suspicions.

The Yorkshireman and Samuel have beaten me to it though, of course, and are already in debate by the railing - trying to work out whether they got the camel or not.

Casualties/Damages:
- 1 Cat
- 1 Pidgeon
- 2 Arab Pedestrians
- 1 Arab pinned to the door of a nearby house by a suspiciously familiar steel ram-rod (With the inscription "Pride of Yorkshire, Made from realy girders." printed on the length)
- 1 Splintered cart (minus one wheel)

The final shot managed to punch a large hole in a mosque roof some half a mile into town (more on this later, but it was fired at a ballistic arc in an attempt to clear half a broom-handle that had been stuck in the barrel).


Samuel spots the steel ram-rod from the ship, and decides to go and retrieve it. With a little fast-talking (he's a brit, y'know) and the help from the surprised family that own the door to which the ram-rod has pinned its unfortunate victim, he returns triumphantly to the ship - but not before being told by the Arab that there will be dire consequences for the heathens responsible for such a heinous act.

Back on the ship, Samuel returns to the Yorkshireman.

Samuel: "You'll never guess where I found this."
He brandishes the ram-rod.
Yorkshireman: "Where?"
Samuel: "Some bloody rag-head used it to nail his mate to a door!"
Yorkshireman: "Oh damn! He musta snuck on board in t'night and stole it!"

Five minutes later, the two are attempting to explain this to the French Sergeant (Sergeant LeJean, who is the leader of our expedition) whilst an angry mob gathers on the docks. A little worried, Eric and Adam retreat below deck to fetch their rifles.

Sergeant LeJean: (John, in a flawless french accent) "So, you're telling me someone stole it?"
Yorkshireman: "Aye. 'E musta slipped in t'docks durin night, swam'cross the water, clambered up'rope, cross deck n' inta me room. Then 'e took'keys from around mah neck, quite-like, 'cos I'm a light sleeper, see.... Very light, mind. With keys, 'e unlocked case, 'n stole ram-rod. Then 'e locked'case..."

Mark breaks down into laughters for a moment, struggling to keep up the bullshit....

"...'n took keys, put 'em back round my neck, quiet like. Light sleeper, mind. Then, 'e snuck back out, up top, into water and back t'dock. Then, premeditated, like, 'e took his mate and nailed him to that there door to frame us upstanding Englishmen."

I almost applauded, it was flawless... I didn't though. Unfortunately, I was too busy laughing my face off. Even John couldn't think of a come-back to that one.


Now, the crowd on the docks has grown to about two dozen, and they are starting to light torches and staring up at the ship angrily. A shout comes up that they killed the most respected Imam on the coast whilst he was at morning prayers. It takes a moment for us to click - but we finally remember the enormous hole that Mark managed to punch in the roof of a tall Mosque not far from the docks.

Crud....

Samuel and the Yorkshireman quickly decide that they must go and talk to the Captain of the ship and push off before the mob decides to attack. The Captain tells them that he has a good relationship with the people of this town, and that we are to get the hell off his boat. We have ten minutes.

The four of us hold a quick meeting on deck - all the while vaguely aware of Sergeant LeJean, who is standing by the port-side rail, sharpening various weapons with a mad gleam in his eye: like a man who is about ready to lead a suicide charge against a town of angry Arabs.

It is the Yorkshireman who comes up with a plan. The french are too stubborn to push off, and to get away we have to get past two dozen arabs with weapons and torches - with just the four of us and a mad Sergeant (not to mention the Camel still hasn't been located). He counts off 5 Frenchies on board, and we agree that this is better odds than trying to fight the Arabs.

At this point, John helpfully mentions that 10 more frenchmen appear on the deck, ones that you've never seen before. Then another ten.

Double-crud....

We hatch a new plan. Yorkshireman hides on deck, the rest of us take cover.

Yorkshireman (speaking in french now, so the Arabs on deck can hear him): "We Frenchmen will rape your women and burn your religious leaders before urinating on their still-warm ashes!" He shouts.

A murmur goes up from the crowd. The French decide its a tactical time to abandon ship - take all the lifeboats and promptly feck off. The crowd gets bigger, and the four of us on board feel very pleased with the way things are looking... generally speaking.

Cue me:
Eric (In Arabic): Appearing on deck, "Quickly! The French are escaping!"

You have to give us credit... it was a plan of quite some genius.

Unfortunately, as is often the case in our games, it backfires. The Arabs shout back that they will kill the french later - they want our heads first, regardless of whether we are french or not!

Triple-crud.....

I kick the boarding ramp into the water, and Samuel and the Yorkshiremen fetch the Elephant Gun. We prepare ourselves for a fight. For some minutes, the Arabs are chanting "Al-Machtum! Al-Machtum!" Not even Eric knows what they are talking about, until its too late.

A catapult wheels out of a nearby street, onto the docks. It is loaded with an angry-looking camel with steel teeth.

Quadru... you get the idea.

Samuel and the Yorkshireman watch as the Camel is winched back - and then they take a pot shot at the catapult. Mark rolls a critical, and the Catapult explodes into chunks of wood and banded metal, hurling the camel over the ship to crash into the sea.

We cheer.

Arab: "Hey, you English cheat!" Someone shouts.

Being English, of course, we respond poorly to being called on our honour. Both Samuel and I lean over the rail to shoot the speaker almost simultaneously (And I'm sporting a .45 Martini-Henry Rifle, to Samuel's revolver).

Things start to go a bit pear-shaped. Sergeant LeJean has remained with us, and start shouting insults in French, taunting the Arabs: a crowd which has now grown to about 100 people, including some of the Tuareg tribesmen. A volley of shots rings out from the tribesmen, the Yorkshireman takes hot lead in the gut and goes down, and Eric is caught in the shoulder (on a measly 4 HP after his minor recovery overnight) and collapses again.

A dozen Arabs manage to climb up the anchor chain and storm the deck. The Sergeant shouts something inanely, and throws away his sword. He then proceeds to call the Arabs "Girlies", draws a pair of nail scissors and prepares for the charge. Adam is next to fall to the charge, taking one man with him - and then Samuel manages to take two more between his revolver and shotgun shots. In the chaos, he falls too.

Woo! TPK!

We started a religious war last night.... I feel my work is done.

Next time, I'll introduce you to the new party! :D