Studfest V: Romeo and Juliet
Getting together near Port Block

In the south, the army of the Hand frolicked quietly among the undergrowth and between the buildings, coming to main street around the barracks.

In the north and the west, Revolting Peasants and Murcelagos revolted and murcelagoed. Like everyone else, they mused on ways to find this boy, whose face no-one knew.

Perhaps the locals could shed some light...

Flint set his men to a skirmish line, and started checking house to house for anyone who might have a clue, while his gun crews set up east of the main square, aiming to command the square. This was obviously a concern, for Port Block gun crews seldom hit what they are aiming at - mind you the square was biggish...

Captain Branwallis had an early break-through, finding some locals at the inn who had sighted the sixteen year old at the pub. After an initially reluctant question and answer session, Branwallis' innovative questioning methods revealed a potential location. There was one less local, but the way forward was clear (Yup, he shot someone, stony cold dead).

The gun crews were ready, and with nothing better to do, started taking pot shots at the surf-club labrador. The gun crews don't normally shoot at dogs (or any domestic pets at all actually - well, except cats obviously), but what with this dog looking a great deal like a polar bear, it seemed to be asking for it. In any event, the shot missed of course, and killed some ominous looking local shrubbery.

Brother Captain Stavros interrogation at the surf-club revealed that the monarch had been there the night before, doing some under-age partying (Again! Oh dear. The children these days, what with their partying and their rock music, and that Elvis man, you know he'll come to no good, no good at all).

The Revolting Peasants were massed in front of the pub, trying to decide whether to crash the pub, or fight the forces of the Hand. In the end, they decided to consult the Coin of Decision. After the neccesary solemnities, the Coin of Decision was tossed, but fell down the drain and into the sewer before rendering its decision. The Peasants were lost and afraid. Thinking quickly, the chief seer read in this turn of events, that like the Coin of Decision, the Revolting Peasants were all in it up to their ears, and that that they had better get out of it - partying was definitely not on, fighting was definitely on. In the meantime, the chief seer dispatched a Peasant scout squad to the sewers, on the Quest for the Coin of Decision.

The party scheduled for that evening in the village was obviously meant to be fancy dress - a popely dressed dude was seen swanning about in the horsedrawn pope-mobile. Questioning the popely dude in the pope-mobile indicated that the future king was expected at the beach house barbecue. It was to be a popular party.

In other news, some protestants marking 'their' territory on lamp posts were arrested and taken to the Church of Seamentology (for rehabilitation).

The local constabulary caught up with the locals who had helped Branwallis, and as a lesson to them, killed one. The locals were having a hard time from everyone, but, on the silvery lining side, there is a no doubt that there is a very very low rate of recidivism in Island on Brikks and St Nevis. Branwallis, vengeful dude that he was, promptly knocked off the police, as a lesson to them. Obviously he didn't deal with all the police in the village, so that left quite a few very alive policemen roaming about with issues in respect of Branwallis and the whole NSW Corps thingie. Flint was appalled, and quietly mused on how to get Branwallis out of the game.

When one of the scouts came back with a report that one of the houses held only a female, who was pleasant to look upon, and had tried to be rather...accomodating, Flint siezed upon the opportunity, and advised Branwallis that the particular building seemed to require his particular kind of finesse. Branwallis rode forth, and apparently made a new friend, and was neither seen nor heard of again for the duration.

Joan of Arc was arrested at the surf club, for underage partying. The forces of the Hand have a thing about that sort of thing. In Island on Brikks and St Nevis, such an offence might get you a spanking, but not normally anything more serious. However Joan was special - just in case, the police started warming up the pyre...

The Revolting Peasants helped her get away, but Joan wasn't at all grateful, insisting that she really had to get to the party in the beach club, because that's where her best buds would be. Since the Peasants had already been there, and had sad memories about the tragic Loss of the Coin of Decision there, they weren't going back. Joan hopped onto a passing (extremely combustible, hmmm) hay wagon, and left.

The misfire of a Peasant cannon while loading spelt disaster for three of the Hand's crossbow-men, causing them to be flung bodily in the direction of the afterlife. In retaliation, the Hand invited a Peasant to go show them the way.

Then, in a truly stunning piece of crossbowmanship (wait a minute, show me that dice...), The Captain of the Guard of the Hand took down the torchbearer of the Peasant cannon. And the flame fell upon the powder store! Catastrophe loomed for the Revolting Peasants! In desperation, a Peasant, in a supreme act of sacrifice for the good of the greater peasantry, flung first one, then another comrade on the burning powder, in an attempt to extinguish the flame. This bold move succeeded, but over in the square, make no mistake, the pyre in the square was getting toasty.

The NSW Corps gun crews had had enough of missing the polar beary dog, and took a shot at some of the Murcelago cavalry. To everyone's surprise, two knights were killed, and not a single leaf of a single shrubbery was harmed.

Joan was eyeing off the pyre. After all her partying she felt her chance of potential sainthood waning. But there was the pyre, already lit, and her friend (king junior) if found by the Republicans might end up on it. This was unbearable. Her heart leapt at the thought of her Romeo. Her hay filled wagon leapt at a nearby fall of shot, and Joan sailed through the air and, well, pretty much into the heart of the fire. Love is a funny old thing though, ain't it?

The forces of the Hand and the Revolting Peasants continued to slug it out. Peasant Cavalry (hmmm, interesting idea) decided that this whole slugging it out thingie was entirely too boring, and headed for the party. A cloister of nuns (what is the collective for nuns anyway) were there boogeying down with the local constabulary. However, cavalry charging through the door was just too much for the popely dude. It seemed to him that the party had finally dipped into the red zone on his weird-o-meter - he up and fled on a white charger.

Galloping through the square, one could not help but be gratified by the glorius smell of roast chicken coming from somewhere. The popely dressed dude would have stopped had he not been in fear of his life, as the frenzied partygoers decided to play the 'let's chase the dude on the horse' game. Steering a course past the pyre, the popely dude spied the Joanly remains, and cast a sainthood in her general direction. It just seemed like something that had to be done.

Down below the tower, having taken the eastern quarter up to the square, Flint's men paused, digging in and awaiting clarification.

The square was full of yelling, screaming, singing, dancing, murderous, funloving, blood frenzied, drunken party goers and soldiers of varying quality. It seemed entirely appropriate for the redcoats to simply form up and point their guns into the fray, and see what happened next. From their point of view, things were going swimmingly - a nice walk on a pleasant afternoon, colour, movement, targets...

Up in the tower, the witch decided that flight was her best means of escape from Flint's swarthy crew, so she leapt from the parapet. As quickly became evident to all concerned, including the witch, she had taken the whole 'fancy dress party' thingie way too far, in assuming that witches garb would confer upon her witches ways and whiles. She plummeted rather untidily to the ground below. Her fall was expertly broken by the popely dude, and the two of them rolled about on the ground in a most unseemly manner, right in front of the NSW Corps. What with the NSW Corps scarcity of women, such lascivious behaviour was going to be very bad for discipline, so Flint knew he had to act fast. Striding forward, and calmly announcing to anyone who wasn't already completely off their heads that he planned to start shooting people more or less at random, until he started to get a better idea of what to do next.