What do Goats, Coyotes, Pandas and Stonehenge Have In Common?

[War Panda]

Well apart from being in these excellent photos by Kyoteblue probably very little. But what do Goats, Coyotes, Pandas and Stonehenge Have to do with WW2?

There is I’m sure a very reasonable and logical answer…but I think its only fair that I allow Kyoteblue to give you the answer…

Feel free to provide a narrative for the pics…within the  appropriate setting of WW2 of course 🙂

BTW I’m pretty sure two of these photos are exactly the same but I can’t be sure

 

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[kyoteblue]

Hey now I have Cthulhu in there as well. Oh and those are some of my Modern forces not WW2.

[Just Jack]

I’m digging the BTRs, and I need some closer photos of those troops.  Are those 90’s era US Marines?   Perhaps my eyes deceive me, bit I’d swear they’re wearing Kevlar helmets and have big old A.L.I.C.E. packs, M-16A2s with slings.  Eh, I’m probably just seeing what I want to see…

And what the hell is that thing in the middle of pics 1 and 4?

Oh, and the answer to Panda’s question: one was the venue, two were present, and one was the star of the show the night Panda lost his virginity.

V/R,
Jack

[Rod Robertson]

Kyoteblue and Al-Panda el Harb:

Are these the extremely rare pictures of the infamous Malmedy Menagerie Massacre where a deranged Joachim Dolittle lined up and slaughtered 84 innocent animals as retribution for a French pigeon pooping on his head in late 1944? The massacre was said to have occurred on the Napoleon Animal Farm near the town of Oruel in France. It is rumoured that Joachim Dolittle was under the sinister influence of an ancient principality or divinity which had left an indelible mark on him when he had served as a submarine crewman aboard U-1984 in the Pacific Ocean in 1941. If so these photos are very valuable as Thyme Magezine has offered hundreds of thousands USD for these snapshots.

As an aside, Dolittle, while a German citizen, was raised and educated in England and spoke perfect English with an upper class Received British accent. This led to his German companions giving him the nick name “Lime”. Now in 1941, while still serving in the Kriegsmarine as second mate on U-1984, Dolittle visited the United States. He was having vision problems, and so visited the Walter Reed Hospital to have his eyes examined and glasses prescribed. While at the hospital he met a mental patient named Howard Phillips who had been transferred from Arkham Asylum to the Walter Reed Hospital for observation and study. This patient claimed to have visited a sunken and ruined city deep in the Pacific which he called R’lyeh and was rumoured to have polluted Dolittle’s mind and soul with stories of an ancient and demonic godling which the madman called “Cthulhu” in deep guttural syllables. These stories may have warped the mind of Dolittle so badly that he rapidly became violently antisocial and was soon expelled from the Kriegsmarine. So violent and vicious was Dolittle that the only organisation that would have him was the dreaded and despised SS, which he joined in September of 1943. During his time in the SS Dolittle’s depravity and penchant for extreme violence grew. After the war he was discovered, arrested and soon after tried and convicted of the most heinous war crimes and atrocities at the Nuremburg Tribunals. Following his conviction he was hanged and then buried anonymously in a pauper’s grave. Jorge Barbahunt, Dolittle’s biographer, famously summed up the man’s wicked life and unfortunate end by saying,”Beware of going from the sub Lime to the Reed occulist or you could end up a mad occultist.”

Cheers and good gaming.

Rod Robertson.

[kyoteblue]

Just jack have you never seen Cthulhu as in Call of Cthulhu before ????? HP Lovecraft ???

[Ivan Sorensen]

Thats approximately what my sons made-up games of “battletech” looks like 🙂

[War Panda]

Well Rod Roy MacLovecrafter  I think your rather spooky tale wins best narrative…and excellent advice that all here should take heed of:

”Beware of going from the sub Lime to the Reed occulist or you could end up a mad occultist.”

Oh the booby prize goes to Jack the Lad and his autobiographical tale  of him raping some poor animal…that story’s not growing old at all

Ivan I reckon your son’s contributions would bring up the gaming standard not to mention the maturity level here…but could you risk the inevitable contamination when he meets Jack

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[shelldrake]

All praise Cthulhu!
ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn

[Rod Robertson]

Just Jack:

Here are some Cthulhu carols to get you more familiar with this ancient and evil abomination from the depths.

or:

or

If you wish to pronounce Cthulhu properly this how it should be pronounced:

However this is how humans have mangled the name:

and finally a short video about an HP Lovecraft classic:

I hope this gives you an insight into how truly warped all of this is and sets you on your own personal road to damnation!

Cheers and death to life.

Rod R’lyeh Robertson (Moo-ha-ha!)

 

 

[Shaun Travers]

Ok. I saw the title of this thread and could not help my writing urge.  I wrote this up at lunchtime at work:

 

A menacing fog quickly appeared in an empty field on Salisbury plains at midnight.   After a few minutes, is dissipated as fast as it had formed.  The field was no longer empty.

“What the f*ck!?” shouted a quizzical marine, one of several dozen now occupying the field. “This is not Iran! And it’s dark!”

“Calm down soldier,” said a sergeant, seemingly the most senior there. “What’s your name?”

“John”.

“Hey, that’s my name!” said another.

“And mine!”

“Me too!”

A quick pass around the soldiers and it turned out all were called John, except one.

“Your name, soldier?”

“Jack.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope. Just Jack.”

It turned out none of the marines knew each other, but all were part of Desert Storm.  Or at least, they used to be part of Desert Storm.

“Where are we sergeant?”

How the f*ck would I know, he thought but instead said “Not sure, lets head up north and see if we can find something”.

“Hey!” Jack called out, “Over here!  I have found something.”

He was standing near a bush that was moving.  The something turned out to be a goat.  And the goat said: “Hurry, we haven’t much time.  I’ll explain on the way to-“

“F*ck, a talking goat! Sergeant, for f*ck’s sake, faster! A f*cking talking goat!”

The sergeant strode up “This is surreal. I’m losing sanity points here.  Jack, what –“

“We haven’t time!” the goat interrupted. “Listen, I’ll make this fast.  Follow me. “ The goat started walking. “You were somewhere else a few minutes ago weren’t you?”

One of the John’s nodded. “Iran.”

“Well, that’s not all.  It July, 1944.  The eldritch horror is about to be unleashed and we have to stop it.”

“1944?”

“Eledrick horror?”

“Stop what?”

The goat cut through the confusion.  “Haven’t time for the details.  We needed some soldiers from the future, all name starting with J. Or else we haven’t a hope.”

“But why J? Why us? Why soldiers?”

“You haven’t the background and we don’t have the time.  Ah, here we are.”

The soldiers peered through the moonlight a few hundred metres in front of them.  It was a circle of standing stones arranged in a circle.

“F*ck me! Stonehenge.  This is getting crazy!”

Jack added “Getting crazy?  It is 1944, and we followed a talking goat to Stonehenge .  I think we are already crazy.”

The goat was staring at the stones and murmuring what sounded like incantations and then suddenly shouted “I call upon Punda the great god of the Long Light!”

There was a flash and in the centre of Stonehenge there appeared an enormous Panda

The goat spoke “Oh dear. Being a goat certainly is not great for refined speech, I have called up a Panda, not Punda.”

“But can it help us fight the, um, what was it, the eldritch horror?”

“It just an ordinary Panda.” the goat answered. “It’s no War Panda.”

Another flash in Stonehenge and a 3 metre monster appeared.  Half man, half octopus.  It shimmered with slime and imposed a menacing presence into the night.

“We are nearly too late!” the goat cried out. “This is only a sliver of Cthulhu.  A little more time and he will be larger and unstoppable.  Plan B. You are all from the US of A, right?”

The soldiers nodded feebly, mostly mesmerised by the unknown entity.

“Ok, then we have a chance…” The goat started murmuring again and ended with a shout “I invoke the Cobalt Coyote, the Great Protector of the World in Balance and the Flames of War.

A flash in the sky and a great blue coyote appears above Stonehenge.  The Cthulhu sliver shivers, trembles violently and then disperses in a cloud of vapour. The coyote looks at the soldiers, nods, and fades away.

While the soldiers are staring dumbstruck into the night sky, the goat murmurs some more and suddenly the soldiers and the panda disappear.  Only the goat is left.

“Well, that could have gone better.”

 

 

[Ivan Sorensen]

I didn’t need a beer before I read that. I do need a beer after reading it.

[Shaun Travers]

Ivan, I did try to fit in something concerning you into the story but it would have required another page to set it up and did not have the time.  But then neither is the Trojan pig or sheep or cows.

[Ivan Sorensen]

That’s okay. I’m not hurt. Sniff..sniff..

[Shaun Travers]

The goat muttered “But the work is not yet done.  There is no end in sight (TM) to stopping the madness”.

It is the following night.

Some soldiers are out on patrol.  Five of them.  In Normandy (TM).

Suddenly a giant pig wanders into view.  Before the soldiers can react, its guts spill open and 5 germans roll out.

“Scurry!” The patrol leader calls out and the squad moves towards the nearest cover.

Before a firefight can break out a giant cow also careers into view.  And then a goat ambles up and speaks to the leader.

“Control your men.  Take cover and don’t fire. I think I have it covered.”
The leader is too shocked to do or say anything.  So the goat ignores him and incants something in an unknown language.

The giant animals collapse into ecto-plasmic slime. The Germans run back to their lines. The squad runs back to their lines. Only the goat is left.

“Well, that’s how the die rolls.”

[kyoteblue]

Oh oh oh my sides hurt from laughing !!!.

[War Panda]

Shaun…Okay firstly that was hilarious …but also surprisingly readable….we want more! And yes I need a Guinness right now

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[Shaun Travers]

I am a frustrated writer but I am not passionate about writing enough to devote lots of time to it.  I also realise my writing is ok but not fantastic and needs practice to get better.  It is why I started a solo Traveller RPG blog (that went for a few months and has been in hiatus for two years).  I am going to have a serious go at re-starting the Traveller blog this year.  So when you threw down the challenge to write a story, I just had to respond 🙂

[kyoteblue]

Shaun That is just cool. Thank you.

[War Panda]

He’s a cool guy that Shaun…I always said it.

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[Rod Robertson]

The War Panda wrote:

” And yes I need a Guinness right now”. What a horrible way to ruin a very good story! Only drinking tincture of belladonna or nightshade could be worse. You should drink Younger’s Tartan or Harp. Those are civilized beers.

Cheers?

Rod Robertson.

 

 

[War Panda]

“Only drinking tincture of belladonna or nightshade could be worse.”

Rod Roy, I know what you’re doing, trying to coax me into a gaelic temper but I’ve learnt the errors of my ways and I’m no longer that man. In fact I want to drink a truce my alcoholically obtuce friend. Let’s drink to a brand new wargaming friendship…

I’ll have the Guinness and you can have the double nightshade.

Slainte agus chuid eile i siochain

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[kyoteblue]

I’ll have a diet coke.

[Shaun Travers]

I am about to have a gin and soda.  A guy at work is retiring, and we are heading off to the pub in about 10 minutes.

I hated beer for ages, but discovered it was only bitter lagers I disliked. Guinness helped me see the light.

[Etranger]

Rod Robertson wrote:

…. You should drink Younger’s Tartan or Harp. Those are civilized beers. Cheers? Rod Robertson.

 

Harp? I fear for your sanity, Rod.

[Rod Robertson]

Etranger wrote:

“Harp? I fear for your sanity, Rod.”

Uh? Etranger, of course I’m insane, I’m posting on this thread! Thanks for your concern but that boat sailed long ago (to R’lyeh). Perhaps your coming over to the dark side and I don’t mean by drinking that sub-standard goat-bile they call Guinness Extra Stout (which is brewed for North American markets in London Ontario, Canada to my eternal shame!).

Al-Panda el Harb:

You know what they say – one man’s poison is another man’s mead! I do, however, have some difficulty understanding why a fellow who claims to be proudly Irish would endorse a beverage which is for all intents and purposes BLACK and TAN! Oh, and the proper way to pour a Guinness is straight into the toilet or garden bed – it is more efficient than pouring it into a glass and then yourself first.

As to the intellect of those who voluntarily imbibe this swill unfit for pigs, I offer this glimpse of a rare Irish MENSA meeting:

Cheers and sanity to you all.

Rod Robertson.

 

[kyoteblue]

More pictures on facebook. M-113 mortar carrier. Druids.

[Shaun Travers]

The goat in my story was likely a Druid in disguise.

[Rod Robertson]

Druids in M113’s? Cool! What’s next, wiccagrenadiers?

[War Panda]

Rod in my experience that’s far too intellectual a conversation to be having at last call

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[War Panda]

“The goat in my story was likely a Druid in disguise.”

God help the next poor Druid that Jack encounters…they’re both in for a surprise

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

[Author]

Posts