snowblizz:
I predict that GW will finally invent a policy so annoying I will be forced to do something about it.
As result of this I’ll gather up all the Scandinavian Warhammer players I know on-line (and one or two Italians, if they are nice) and we’ll build a fleet of longships (2 ships is technically a fleet).
Sailing and rowing (well, I won’t be rowing, that’s why I brought friends) we’ll landing somewhere close to York.
There a mob of English historic re-enactors/historical wargamers will meet us on the beaches, as we managed to sail in on around the 25 of September.
Upon hearing that we are going to pillage Nottingham they gladly join us in our quest and proceed to treat us to a “proper English dinner”.
In response to this affront agianst nature that is know as “English cooking” we kill them all. Our Italian contingent (What? 2 guys is a contingent…) is particularly upset, going berzerk at the mere suggestion of triyng kidneypie.
Leaving trail of burned and looted GW stores across England we finally arrive, rather winded at Nottingham. The first person we meet is somekind of “sheriff” who asks us to “move along, nothing to see here, old boy”. Luckily he is distracted by a gang of Hoodlums mugging a bank director and quickly leaves us alone.
Finally free to continue we arrive at GW and decide to regroup at Bugman’s to gather some Dutch courage. So named for the two Dutch gamers we picked up on the way who are “convinced” to buy a few rounds. Of course being Dutch the also bring “other” stuff which soon has us jolly good Vikings running berserk through the halls of GW HQ, howling about seeing “'Ig 'Ats, 'Ig 'Ats ev’ryw’ere”.
Luckily a small hardened cadre don’t like beer so we promptly proceed to hit GW where it hurts and hold the moulds for Space Marines hostage. In typical GW fashion the surviving suits “refuse to negotiate with terrorists” and “think we will manage well with the sales of other miniatures, we will just raise the price on the ones we do sell, it always worked in the past”.
About a microsecond after GW’s new price list goes on-line a simultaneous scream of pain from GW customers shatter the foundations of Earth. A tiny fragment of paper floats on the winds of a desolate earth and on the smudged ink could be read (had anyone been alive) “GW rleas chedle fo* 201*: Sring, Caos Dwars; Fal, Dak Elda”.
