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PostPosted: Sat Feb 18, 2006 4:34 pm 
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Claymore sandwich, one front, one back, the words "This side towards the enema" facing inwards.
Triggered by electrical impulse from very old cyclist in big ring on turbo trainer trying to build up enough speed...

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 02, 2006 1:47 pm 
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Well it looks like the recent crop of petrolheads have been given the velocite derriere out of the forum, along with Multiple Mans latest incarnation, "zwiec"...

But banning Simon L2 (presumably for questioning the banning of Smudgecat) and ljerams (subscription complaint?) has got me beat. :shock: :-k

It seems that the forum admin don't mind constructive criticism, as long as it is unconditional praise... :wink:

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 07, 2006 12:56 pm 
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Hurmph. I think I shall refrain from comment :evil: .

Anyway. Thought I'd post the list of soundtracks used so far:

  1. Hawkwind - Xenon Codex
  2. Queens of the Stone Age - Rated R
  3. Afro Celt Sound System - Sound Magic (Vol 1)
  4. Outback - Baka
  5. Portishead - Dummy
  6. Afro Celt Sound System - Sound Magic Vol 2
  7. The Pixies - Doolittle
  8. Cream - Wheels of Fire
  9. Fat Les - Vindaloo
  10. Alien Breed - Antidote
  11. Crystal Method - Legion of boom
  12. Bach - Cello Sonata in G Minor: Adagio
  13. Vivaldi - Nisi Dominus: Cumdederit delectus
  14. Vivaldi - The Four Seasons
  15. Queen - It's a Kind of Magic
  16. Green Day - Nimrod
  17. Leftfield - Leftism
  18. Gorillaz - Laika Come Home
  19. Death In Vegas - The Contino Sessions
  20. Jefferson Airplane - Surrealistic Pillow
  21. John Renbourn - John Renbourn
  22. Groove Armada - Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub)
  23. Massive Attack - Mezzanine
  24. Gustav Holst - The Planet Suite
  25. Bloodhound Gang - Use Your Fingers
  26. Strange Cargo - Hinterland
  27. The Crystal Method - Vegas
  28. The Prodigy - The Fat of the Land
  29. Fairport Convention - History
  30. Lemon Jelly - Lemonjelly.ky
  31. Hawkwind - Chronicles of the Black Sword
  32. Faith No More - Angel Dust
  33. ZZ Top - El Loco
  34. Puffy AmiYumi - Nice
  35. Polysics - Hey Bob! My Friend!
  36. Harvey Danger - Where Have All The Merrymakers Gone?
  37. Motorhead - Motorhead
  38. Gioacchino Rossini - Stabat Mater
  39. Goldfrapp - Black Cherry
  40. Infected Mushroom - Converting Vegetarians
  41. Infected Mushroom - B.P. Empire
  42. Jimi Hendrix - Radio One
  43. Toccata and Fugue in D Minor - Bach
  44. Lacrimosa from Requiem in D Minor - Mozart
  45. Also Sprach Zarathustra - Richard Strauss
  46. O Fortuna! - Carl Orff
  47. Dance - Carl Orff (Carmina Burana)
  48. Dies Irae - Giuseppe Verdi (from Messa da Requiem)
  49. The 1812 Overture (conclusion) - Tchaikovsky
  50. The Yardbirds - Rhythm and Blues
  51. Public Image Ltd - The Order Of Death
  52. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon
  53. Shpongle - Are You Shpongled?
  54. Queens of the Stone Age - Songs For The Deaf
  55. Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman
  56. Mylo - Destroy Rock and Roll
  57. Feeder - Pushing the Senses (Japanese Edition)
  58. Dandy Warhols - Welcome to the Monkey House
  59. The Gorillaz - Demon Days

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 08, 2006 4:55 am 
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I reckon we have 7 of those, :whistle: mostly on vinyl up in the loft :oops:

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PostPosted: Fri Mar 10, 2006 5:09 pm 
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Our total is standing at 8. I was expecting it to be higher than that. :( I haven't been music shopping for a (long) while though. Perhaps it's time I did!

Emma


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PostPosted: Fri Mar 10, 2006 9:14 pm 
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A mere 5, although I may have a few excerpts of the classical music. :oops: :oops: :oops:

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PostPosted: Fri Mar 10, 2006 10:36 pm 
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5,8,14,15,17,23,24,33(vinyl),42,43,45,46,47,49,52(vinyl and CD)

Same bands, other albums for:

1,15,16,25,32,33,36,37,42,51,52,57,58

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PostPosted: Sun Mar 12, 2006 6:13 pm 
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Got about 25 of them

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PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 3:35 pm 
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3, 6, 7, 17, 21, 23, 29, 33, 43.

Only 3 the same as redshift.

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PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 4:31 pm 
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Ravenbait wrote:
You're such a big girl's blouse, Vince :roll:

Incidentally, I suspect this is going to be the last ever Volume of the Chronicles, as they're just not generating the interest any more. I'm not really welcome on ACF and that's where most of the old guard have gone. I can't keep up with events across three fora when I'm not welcome at one of them, especially as the new job is going to involve less computer time. Each episode is crafted very carefully, with a lot of thought, and there's really no point unless people are reading them.

So, unless the Club is very keen to keep them going, at which point I shall stop even attempting to keep up with what's going on in virtually real life and just make it up, this volume will be your last chance for superhero wish fulfillment. Get those requests in while you can!


OK - I huffed off (under a longer lowercase name) with Cuddy to join the Brotherhood - which leaves Toad (but vince might be Toad, right?), Havok or Pyro. Or Mastermind. :?:

Dunno - help me out ... :oops:

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PostPosted: Mon May 22, 2006 8:38 pm 
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Apropos of a thread elsewhere Sam, I'll formally request that Hubbard's mob of dianetic loonies make an unwelcome return. Your mention of them reminded me of a potential loose end from the previous volume - how and where did they disappear with the Humungous after he was terminally short-circuited by a ferret?

And while I'm at it, I'd like to request that the only Russians to make an appearance are the spambots that Jarvis and I have already been twatting.

I'd like to think that in The Russian's case, you only live twice... :wink:

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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 9:40 am 
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I have 5/7/19/23/28/56/59


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PostPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 3:24 pm 
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<center>Chronicles of the League and the Intrepid Sorority
Vol VIII No. 9


Soundtrack:
Zero 7 - The Garden
</center>


Welcome boys and girls! welcome to the Cath Humes birthday special edition of our educational periodical for boys and girls of all ages. While our periodical is rather more of an aperiodical these days we hope that it conitnes to excite and titillate and teach - yes teach our noble readers a thing or two about this great adventure we call life.

With a mere three weeks to go until this year's Dun Run the question remains: what will happen this year?




At the Cake Stop Bar and Grill things have moved apace. Now entrenched in their own fortress, with a new defence system in place and the trickle-feed influx of new recruits bringing new lifeblood to the old haunt, things are looking up.

Spring has been and gone, seasons passing as quickly as a mayfly's dance, and now the baking heat of summer is turning the tarmac of the cycle park into a hotplate. Bikes shimmer in a haze, looking ethereal in the dense air. The cycle racks are growing once more, tougher and more verdant than ever. The first shoots pushed defiantly through the blacktop in late spring, crumbling the pitch-bound aggregate as if it were sugar, and it was not long before the cycle park was lush and green again. Some of the diversity has gone — there are no longer the odd freaks and bizarre instances of aesthetic oddity that had once found a home there. No longer is there the occasional specimen that appears to have been tie-dyed by a hippy on an acid trip, or the plant that has forayed into the realms of the Peakeish Gothic. The cycle park is more conformist now.

The Cake Stop has closed ranks.

Rumours have spread that Cuddy, leader of the Brotherhood of Cyclists, is taking orders from a new, mysterious commander; other rumours suggest that someone with even more powers has arrived and is controlling things from behind the scenes, without ever making himself plain. Cuddy will neither confirm or deny the rumours.

The lovely Clare is back behind the bar however, much to the delight of the old regulars. Some have even asked if this new regime marks the start of a return to the old ways, before the Great Schism. But when this happens the likes of ZimZum and McBain point to the sky with scorn on their faces and point out that not only are they not coming back, why would they want a bunch of traitors to the cause anyway?

"Because we'd like to see them eat humble pie?" suggests Dayvo.

This receives the stony-faced silence it deserves from the likes of 661-Pete and CometGirl.

Keeping the borders under a watchful eye are the regulars of Soapbox. Redcogs, Simoncp and Spire are maintaining the right degree of watchful alertness, and Gary Askwith is keeping things stirred. It wouldn't do to drop the guard and let another invasion through from the realms of the petrolheads to cause another calamitous round of destruction.

Indeed, so tightly held are the borders of the Cake Stop Bar and Grill that one member has been forced to remove himself after accusations of trolling, only to come back under a slightly different name, presumably with a slightly different attitude. Demongrinder2000V.2.1 has confessed once to trollish behaviour and yet has returned with protestations of innocence and some almost too-obviously reassuring queries about short wear and Zipp 404.

Jdfyfe is not so easily lulled back into a state of wholehearted acceptance, however. He and Cunobelin are still concerned that there is something not quite right about this new poster. His views on Volvos are a tad over-stated for a start, and he's asking strange questions about stopping his legs from growing.

"Definitely something not quite right there," Jdfyfe opines, shaking his head as they see him munching popcorn over a discussion over whether boys are failed by schools being too girly. "We need to keep an eye on that one."

"Aye," says Yorkshireman. "I think Cuddy's noticed, though."

Indeed, Cuddy had noticed. He is spreading himself thin these days, but he tries to get to every instance of what appears to be rampant dogmatic idiocy, if only to show the troops that he is aware of it. He knows that out there on the roads, where the real battle is taking place, the League and Sorority are making their presence felt. They may well be keeping quiet about it but news filters through.

Unlike the enclave that is Asteroid M. What happens there stays there. No one finds out about it. The flow of information in and out of Asteroid M has been halted. They might as well not exist, save for those rare few who still venture forth, dodging the automated sentries and the thought scanners.

The rare few of a warrior bent, who still need to whet their teeth on something more robust than a wet paper doily with a picture of Richard "the Hamster" Hammond or Captain Slow drawn on it in crayon.

Cuddy knows things have to change soon. The Cake Stop is becoming insular again, toughening its borders to keep the enemy forces out but running the risk of becoming calcified in dogmatic assertions as it does so.

There are some days, he is forced to admit, when he actually misses the cats.


<br>
<center>* * *</center>
<br>

Jarvis has just taken a delivery of some rather special weaponry, shipped across from Fat Ron's Asian operation in Hong Kong.

"Oh I say," Hummers declares with arched, strangely bushy eyebrows. For some reason he is hanging upside down by his feet from the Beryl Burton chandelier in the grand dining room, where the smells of cordite and gun oil are mixing in a quite peculiar fashion with that of the rose-scented pelargoniums that arrived that morning with a card signed by Patrick Stevens, addressed to Ravenbait and inquiring as to whether she needed any damp compost for potting up. "Did Keith Oates arrange that little number? That's really rather splendid."

The item in question is a plasma generator designed to be mounted on the ceiling just behind the lintel of a door, for the pruposes of catching an unwary intruder.

"I had a discussion with Gunner," Spesh explains. He is overseeing the unpacking of this most delicate shipment. "It was in a brief moment when he wasn't admiring himself in the Big Mig Mirror down in the gym. It's summer, Hank, you know what he's like. Gordon put in a call to Oatesy and then Oatsey spoke to Paul and had it released from the SCHEELD hot-to-trot Weapons division in Hong Kong. Oatsey picked it up and Fat Ron had it shipped over without recourse to Customs and Excise. Just as well, really. We'd never have got it past the Inquisition otherwise."

"Remind me again what SCHEELD is, there's a chap." Hummers removes his glasses and gives them a quick polish on his blue fur.

"Super Cyclists Headquarters, Entrapment and Eventing, Lawlessness Division," Spesh clarifies. "It was some sort of outreach project for underprivileged cyclists that MVC started while she was over there on a buying trip."

Jarvis sets the packaging aside in a neat pile and takes a wicked-looking billhook to the parcel tape keeping the next one sealed. It pops open with a brief quiver, as if trembling with desire to be unpacked.

"Ah," Spesh grins. "Close the door, Hank."

Hummers drops lightly to the ground, the chandelier barely swaying, and closes the door to the immense dining room. Spesh burrows through a mass of packaging chips made from maize and then removes a drab, olive-green, cylindrical object.

"Remember Cath was complaining about the Sustrans canvassers telling people they can't ride on the road and have to take the paths?"

"Ye-es," Hummers responds, settling his glasses back on his nose.

"I got her a birthday present." Spesh holds the object up, grin widening. "Hank, please allow me to introduce you to the SCHEELD Weapons Division update on the classic German S-Mine. Meet Bouncing Billy. The Chairman managed to get a couple of the originals sent over from one of the Warsaw Pact countries, declaring that he wanted them for a liposuction biofuel experiment and citing commercial confidentiality when they asked for a process explanation. That did it, apparently. We sent them over to Striker and this is what we got back."

"Oh my stars and garters. What does it do?" Hummers peers at the object as if examining a strange and not altogether pleasant insect.

"Well, when activated the shell springs back releasing about a thousand sharp adamantium caltrops which scatter across an area about 20 feet in diameter. It's impossible to pick them up. They're so sharp they dig into the surface and they can't be swept."

"That's a bit extreme, isn't it Frank?" Hummers looks supremely disapproving. "After all, people use the Sustrans routes for learning how to ride."

"Better they find out the damn things are substandard closer to their cars, where they have the choice of heading home, rather than 4 miles away down some track when little Jemima is hot and tired and then has to walk back or be carried on Daddy's shoulders. Anyway." Spesh looks grim. "If the bastards are going to use dirty tactics and cheating to get us out of the way, we're going to use dirty tactics and cheating to put even the leisure-path petrolhead supporters in their way."

"And we closed the door because...?"

"Because they're a surprise. I was going to wrap one up and give it to her along with a cake."

"What a splendid idea, Frank," Hummers beams. "Now if you'll excuse me, I heard that Zipperhead had managed to get a video from MVC about that Manchester conference she attended a few weeks ago. He invited me round to watch it."

<br>
<center>* * *</center>
<br>


No longer in the Danger Room, the small assembled group of X-Men plus guest have gone to Mission Control, three doors down and to the right in the futuristic basement of the mansion in Salem Centre, Westchester that houses Xavier's School for Gifted Children. RB is fidgeting, impatient. She can feel a sense of increasing urgency, and her tension is transmitting itself to Huginn and Muninn. Their eyes roll more madly than ever and they peck at anyone who gets close, wings flapping.

Each time a vicious lunge robs one of the birds of its balance it digs its claws in to RB's arm to prevent itself falling, drawing blood. In moments the scratches close over leaving her skin fresh and whole.

It would have been a good trick to have when she came off her bike back in September and put a hole in her arm the size of Belgium.

"Do you know Sage?" Emma Frost asks icily. "Have you met?"

"Supercomputer meets Mentat only madam here doesn't need the juice of Sapho," the priestess says. She is momentarily distracted by the sudden thought that perhaps the 'juice of Sapho' is a euphemism. Sage isn't entirely unattractive, and it is always more fun to flirt with straight girls. "Thought you were back with the Hellfire Club, Tessa. All those tight, shiny outfits just skirting the boundaries of bondage gear... I always did fancy an invite."

This earns the priestess a furious scowl from Emma Frost, formerly the White Queen.

"You seem remarkably well informed about our world," Beast remarks, suspicion furrowing his furry blue face.

"I try to keep up," Ravenbait replies. "It helps me keep tabs on the hairy barbarian here."

"And why would you want to do that?" Emma inquires with all the subtlety of an ice pick through the head.

"So I know where to go when my appetites stray towards something other than malt loaf, home-made flapjacks or beer, Ms Frost, and I desire that something to be hairy and male as opposed to smooth and female." There is the glimmer of a suggestive smile on the priestess's face.

There is a moment's silence during which this statement is digested.

"I have analysed our past mission records looking for patterns that fit with the situation you outlined during your earlier conversation," Sage says, her eyes hidden behind the opaque red lenses of the glasses that interface with the mansion's main computer system. If she has been perturbed by RB's deliberate provocation she makes no show of it. "I also made use of a contact or two. Assuming that your supposition regarding the origins of this influence being here is correct, the indications are that we need to visit this place."

She gestures and a holographic image of a small town slides into view from the projector in the middle of the table. It looks quiet, peaceful; clapperboard houses with painted shutters nestled in green lawns, sheltered by lush green trees. Butterflies flitter across the field of view.

"Is this a live feed?" asks Kitty. She is frowning. She recognises that place. It fills her with a deep sense of foreboding and yet she cannot put her finger on why.

"Yes," Sage responds.

"Why do we have a live feed?"

"Because we identified a need for long-term surveillance when we finished there," Sage said. "One of the data points that indicated this as the next line of inquiry was a recorded increase in the levels of residual ionic activity being detected in the walls of the basement super structure."

"Where is it?" Kitty whispers.

Sage nearly met her death in that place. Of all of them, she had been the one to succumb most completely to the influence of the creature they had eventually trapped in a hermetically sealed prison. Even so her voice remains clipped and free of emotion. "Haven."

Wolverine looks up from his beer at that, something wild and feral glinting in his eye. "Stryker," he murmurs.

"Stryker?" Ravenbait repeats, rapidly trying to assemble the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that is still missing most of the edge pieces. Now she has three corners. That should be enough to get a sense of what is there. "The military man or the Reverend?"

"The priest," Hank tells her. "Believed that mutants were an abomination in the sight of God."

Four corners.

"Right then," the priestess says grimly. "Let's go."





Sam


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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 4:45 pm 
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I'll try to be less tardy with the next one, but it's getting very difficult when so few of the old cast list are still around.


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PostPosted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 2:14 pm 
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Heads up all.

Been spending some time on C+. What a hoot.

I can feel more Chronicles coming on. Obviously we'll need some retconning to make it work...

Sam

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