Only one game at club, but what a game!
28mm 19th Century Sci-Fi – Black Powder & Hot Plasma!
Just a regular day out for Holmes and Watson. Train down to Reading, and then a cab through the summer countryside out to see the Armed Forces review. There was much excitement at the temporary military camp as Her Imperial Majesty, Victoria, was making a formal visit to see her brave boys. Holmes had an inkling he would we required and had told Watson to bring his revolver!
Security was tight at the event – there were rumours of a dastardly plot against the Queen. Probably anarchists, or even the Russians, thought Watson, although the chances of the Russians making it past the Royal Navy were a million-to-one they said. The day was to start with grand manoeuvres and the Earl of Cardigan was in command of the display – although he seemed to be issuing very strange orders. Holmes was suspicious of smoke in the sky some way off to the south. Probably just burning stubble, mused Watson. The manoeuvres were not going well, the Highland brigade struggling with the command “Prepare to receive bicycles!”. There were also casualties appearing in the camp – horribly burnt, not your typical parade ground accident!
Cardigan approached Her Royal Highness. He’ll have some explaining to do, thought Watson. Cardigan’s horse was not slowing as he approached the Queen – what was he at? All was confusion, but Holmes stepped forward in front of Her Majesty. Cardigan raised his sabre, and Holmes would have been sliced in two. A shot rang out, and Cardigan fell from his horse. Watson, smoking revolver in hand, approached Holmes. “By jingo, Holmes, what the devil is going on?” As several members of the Queen’s protection squad leapt on the fallen rider, Holmes lit his pipe and calmly replied “I think you’ll find that is not Cardigan, those machines are not Russian, and your million-to-one odds have just come up!” Watson turned to see where Holmes was gesturing to the South with his spent match. Eight gigantic, and otherworldly, three-legged machines were marching towards the camp!
So started the strangest Black Powder game ever played by the FOGH. Yes, it was a diabolical invasion of Earth by Martians, intent on probing to the very heart of the planet’s mightiest Empire, and capturing the Queen (gawd bless her!).
The British troops soon discovered that alien Tripods are nasty affairs, belching heat rays, and bristling with Gatling type weapons. They were pretty much immune to musketry, but could be damaged by artillery fire; the Royal Horse Artillery making some pretty daring attacks. However, the Tripods biggest weakness seemed to be getting mobbed by hundreds of British infantry who swarmed up their legs, and despite heavy losses to invidious probing, could eventually overcome the mighty titans. The Martians deployed their own foot troops in an effort to save the Tripods – strange purple, chitinous, six-limbed creatures. Quite nasty, but no match for Heavy Dragoons or Lancers it turned out!
After four of the mighty alien titans had been downed the Martians decided to retreat and re-group – there would be another day (mwah-ha-ha!). Holmes and Watson escorted the Queen back to Reading railway station where she boarded a train pulled by a new experimental locomotive. “No safer means of getting Her Majesty back to London” said Watson. Holmes looked unconvinced and pulled thoughtfully on his pipe as the GWR Thunder Child steamed out of the station.
