The Chronicler

Volume I

A Homage
to
Mutant Chronicles

by

Dietmar Böhmer

Bonn 2016

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!3
This work is a submission of a great fan of MUTANT
CHRONICLES.

M U TA N T C H R O N I C L E S a n d r e l a t e d l o g o s ,
characters, names, and distinctive likenesses thereof
are trademarks or registered trademarks of Mutant
Chronicles International Inc. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity with actual

people and events, past or present, is purely
coincidental and unintentional except for those
people and events described in an historical context.

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 Contents

A lesson taught 7

Unawarded 13

A small Village on Venus 16

Shadow Walker 20

Family Business 24

A Hunter´s Game 32

Excerpt from a McKenzie Base City Guide 36

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!6
 A lesson taught

Lieutenant Franz Heinrich Freiherr von Stocha was

very proud of himself. Freshly graduated from his
officer´s training his first assignment was to
Operation Anaconda in the Ehrenberg Sector in the
southern Ring of Strife. Operation Anaconda was in
its final stage and proved to be a major success. As
had been predicted by Colonel Hans Erich von
Richthausen the operation was profiting much from
Imperial involvement. ‘Whenever there is something
to gain the easy way, Imperial is sure to do it.’ That´s
what Colonel von Richthausen had said when he had
layed out the overall plan of Operation Anaconda to
the General and his staff and right on cue Imperial
forces had started their assault on Mishima territory
in the Ehrenberg Sector within the second week of
the operation.
Lieutenant von Stocha was on his way to Colonel von
Richthausen. This was his third day in Camp Coeur
de Fournaise, HQ of Operation Anaconda, and he was
personally summoned by the Colonel. A real stroke of
luck.
Von Stocha stopped in front of the Colonel´s office,
straightend his uniform and knocked. “Come in,”
answered the man inside. He entered the office,
closed the door behind him, turned and saluted the
Colonel who was sitting at his desk reading some
papers. “At ease,” the Colonel said without looking
up. Von Stocha stood at ease and waited. Within a
minute the Colonel finished his reading and
addressed the young Lieutenant. “Lieutenant von

!7
Stocha, I´ve got an urgent task for you. Last night a
squad of scouts returned from a sortie. I´ve just read
their preliminary report. Please make sure, that they
are here at my office at 1300 hours sharp. And I
want you present when I hear their full report
personally, understood?” Von Stocha stifled a smile
and answered, “Yes, Colonel.” “Make sure they are
presentable, I´ve heard they are a lousy bunch of
soldiers. So if they need a bit of a shake-up, please
feel free. You get the details from my Aide-de-Camp.
Dismissed.” Von Stocha snapped to attention and
saluted. This time it was returned by a smiling
Colonel. The Lieutenant turned and left the office
without noticing that the Colonel´s smile turned into
a big grin.

Lieutenant von Stocha strode down the rows of tents.

‘Eleven, twelfe, thirteen. That´s the one.’ He flapped
the canvas covering the entrance and entered the
tent. Inside were three dishevelled looking soldiers, a
blond one resting on his cot, and a black-haired and a
brawny man playing cards using an ammunition
crate as a makeshift table. None of them reacted to
the young officer´s entry. They did not get up and
stood to attention. ‘They are really a disgrace to the
armed forces,’ von Stocha thought. ‘Let´s teach them
a lesson!’ “Attention, officer present!” he shouted at
the men. The black-haired one threw three coins in
the middle of the table. “Your turn,” he said as if
nothing had happened. The brawny guy glanced up,
took notice of the Lieutenant and look down at his
cards again. Von Stocha was about to explode.
“Disrespect and gambling! I will have you court-
martialled for that!” he roared at them. At this the
!8
black-haired soldier turned around and the blond got
up from his cot into a sitting position. Both of them
transfixed him with their eyes. “That´s the second
time this month. You win,” the black one said.
“Thanks,” the blond answered and scratched his
head. “I guess it´s my turn then,” he said and got up.
‘This is unbelievable!’ von Stocha thought. But before
he could say anything further the blond eyed him up
and looked him straight in the eye. This man had the
battle-hardened gaze of a veteran who had seen
many a battle, who had seen friends and comrades
die all around him, had killed more often than von
Stocha could even imagine and had survived all of it.
“Listen,” he glanced at von Stocha´s epaulettes,
“Lieutenant. I bet a month earnings that you are
fresh from the academy and it´s your first
assignment to the front. Am I right?” Suddenly the
young Lieutenant found himself at the defensive and
he didn´t even know why. “Yes, this is my first
assign...” “So this whole situation is pardonable,” von
Stocha was cut short. “May I introduce these
gentlemen to you, Lieutenant...?” “von Stocha, ...Sir,”
he stammered. “...Lieutenant von Stocha?” the blond
man continued without even expecting the confused
young officer to answer. “The gentleman sitting on
the left side of the table is Kapitan Charles Baptiste
Viscount de Mountiers, Venusian Marshal.” The
black-haired man smiled and nodded a greeting. “The
gentleman on the other side is Kapitan Karl
Friedrich Baron von Eschenbach, also a Venusian
Marshal.” “Welcome to Camp Coeur de Fournaise,
Lieutenant von Stocha,” the brawny officer said with
a grin. “Umm...thank you,” von Stocha answered.
“And I am Major Philippe Eric Martineaud,” the blond
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introduced himself. He smiled brightly at the
Lieutenant and offered him his hand. “Welcome to
Operation Anaconda.” Von Stocha shook the
proffered hand. “I surmise you´ve got a message for
u s f r o m C o l o n e l vo n R i ch t h a u s e n ? ” M a j o r
Martineaud asked. “Yes, Sir. But how do you know?”
“Well, you are not the first young officer who fell
victim to one of the Colonel´s pranks. Actually he has
taught you his first lesson.” “He did what?” von
Stocha was taken aback. “As you came in you saw a
‘bunch of lousy soldiers’ as the Colonel might have
phrased it and you reacted to it straight forward
according to the book. But have you analysed the
situation? When you look around you can see
Kapitan von Eschenbach´s shoulder pads
announcing his rank lying on his cot. Over there,
resting at the tent pole, are two officer´s sabres and
below each of our cots you can see our personal
coffers with name and rank. So you see, he has
taught you his first lesson. Analyse all available
information before reacting to a situation. And do it
fast if you want to survive a combat encounter.”
Lieutenant von Stocha was thunderstruck. It had all
been right in front of his eyes and he had made a fool
of himself. “And the message was?” Major
Martineaud asked. “Um? Oh, yes... Colonel von
Richthausen wants your full report at 1300 hours in
his office.” “And he wants you to be present, doesn´t
he?” “Yes, he does.” This man seemed to know
ever ything without even a single clue. “So
congratulations, Lieutenant von Stocha, the Colonel
has obviously taken you under his wing and he wants
your analysis of the situation at hand. So better be
prepared, because that will be your next lesson
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taught.” Major Martineaud smiled at the young
Lieutenant who began to realize the full extent of his
luck. Being tutored by the man who devised
Operation Anaconda, Colonel Hans Erich von
Richthausen.

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!12
 Unawarded

As soon as I heard their desperate cries I ran to the

small alleyway all along preparing my camera and
screwing a new flashlight on. Hopefully there was a
story to be told that might pay this month´s rent.
I turned into the dark and narrow side street. Some
ten metres into it a monstrous disfigured brute
hunched down over a black heap of… whatever it
was. I tried to focus the camera in the twilight at the
gruesome scene ahead and pressed the release.
The flash illuminated the horrible scenery and burn-
ed it in my mind for evermore. An oversized and
o v e r m u s c l e d b r u t i s h m o n s t r o s i t y v a g u e ly
resembling a human being was crouching down over
two fresh corpses spilling their blood into the filth of
this backyard street. In its clawed left I saw some
entrails still dripping off gore. The clawed fingers of
its right were lifting a torn off leg to its mouth as it
was going to bite a huge chunk off.
This picture of horrors was more than just one
month´s rent. This photograph could pay my rent for
at least three or four months, maybe even more. This
shot gave proof to all the rumours heard in cheap
drinking holes and told by the derelicts on the
streets. It would sell to the San Dorado Herald, The
Enquirer and maybe even to The Chronicle! I might
even be nominated for the Pulitzer Award! I should
take another one just to make sure.
I was screwing the burned flashlight off when I heard
a deep snarl coming from the monster. I looked up
and froze in terror. It had turned its head and was

!13
gazing at me with its burning red eyes. I dropped the
dead bulb to the floor and was fingering my bag for a
fresh flashlight when it bounced up and sprang at
me. I was about to scream but the impact knocked me
down and forced the air out of my lungs. The beast
roared triumphantly and tore its claws into my body.
And then all of a sudden the roar cut off and the huge
body dropped to the side.
A man clad all in black appeared in my field of vision.
I tried to speak but some warm liquid tasting like
metal was bubbling in my throat forcing me to cough.
“Don´t move, my son,” the man in black said. I saw
him cutting the leather strap of my camera with a
knife an throwing it to the side. I started to protest
but went into another fit of coughing instead. He
seemed to examine me but strangely I couldn´t feel
his hands on me nor could I feel anything else. My
vision began to swim, but I dimly saw a white symbol
of the Brotherhood on a black helmet and I heard
him say, “Rest, my son, may the Cardinal´s Light
shine on you.”

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!15
 A small Village on Venus

Forgetting wireless procedure Lieutenant von Stocha

shouted into his microphone, “For the Cardinal´s
sake, give us more firepower!” He was waiting for an
answer when suddenly a shell hit the wall to his left.
The explosion threw him to the side and a huge
chunk of something hit his torso hard. After a few
seconds, still recovering from the impact, he tried to
lift his head. He was covered by something heavy
which turned out to be the limp body of Private
Schmidt, the radio operator. Standing next to the
young officer the Private had absorbed most of the
explosion and shrapnel and therefore had saved the
Lieutenant´s life. Pushing the dead Private aside von
Stocha got up groggily. There was a new colour with-
in the camouflage pattern of his armour, a bloody
red. He thanked the Cardinal that it wasn´t his own.

They had been taken totally by surprise. The

Mishimans had been attacking without warning.
Four hours ago four platoons of Hussars under the
command of Kapitan de Croix had retaken the small
village of Bretville without firing even a single shot.
Immediately 1st and 2nd Platoon had taken up
defensive positions at the eastern edge of the small
village whereas 3rd and 4th Platoon had been
ordered to secure the flanks. The Hussars had dug in,
placed forward observers and everything had been
quiet until half an hour ago. Kaptain de Croix had
been with a forward observer of 2nd platoon when
the shelling had started, he hadn´t been heard of

!16
since and was assumed dead by now. After a short
shelling the Mishimans had moved in with at least a
battalion of samurai and ashigaru supported by five
Mekas, Mishima´s version of a battle tank. Realising
the full scale of this offensive von Stocha had
repeatedly tried to contact HQ to get artillery
support, all in vain.

Von Stocha looked at the smoldering shell of the long

range radio. Suddenly over the roar of the ongoing
battle he heard tracing fire getting closer to the
command shelter. That could only mean one thing.
He drew his MP 105 the moment a man dived
headlong through the entrance, but he was relieved
to see that it was Sergeant de Kuiper of 3rd platoon.
In a well practiced and fluent motion the veteran
Sergeant got up and saluted the Lieutenant. “Looks
like we lost contact with HQ,” he said glancing at the
corpse and the dead radio. Giving no inkling of his
thoughts on the situation at hand von Stocha
answered, “Sergeant, I have to admit that I´m not
sure whether we will get any support or not. But for
now we are to hold our position. Is that understood?”
“Sir, of course, Sir.” “Good. So what are the news from
3rd platoon?” asked von Stocha. “Well, Lieutenant di
Monte is dead. Heavy machine gun almost ripped
him apart. Seem´s you are in command now,
Lieutenant.” For a long moment Lieutenant von
Stocha felt the heavy burden of command resting on
his shoulders, but then heritage and training took
over. “Sergeant, I need a map, a means of contact to
get my orders across and a full situational report.
Let´s show them whom these Mishimans are trying

!17
to mess with!” the young Lieutenant ordered in a
determined voice.

Six hours later with the Mishimans in full retreat

Lieutenant Franz Heinrich Freiherr von Stocha
limped out of the heavily damaged command shelter.
With a grim smile he saluted the commander of the
Wolf MK 2 passing by. “Welcome to the village of
Bretville, Sir.”

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!19
 Shadow Walker

Ishida Motonari knelt in front of the kamidana altar.

By the light of his torch he studied the ancient scroll
containing the secret techniques of the shinkage-ryu,
the martial arts style of the Yagyu family. For
centuries the Yagyu were teaching their fighting
skills to the Overlord, his trusted hatamoto and
yojimbo on Luna. Being just a minor samurai
Motonari would never have the chance to learn the
Eight Tengu Techniques nor the Fourteen Superior
Manoeuvres that could only be mastered by the best
and were exclusively taught to the samurai close to
the Overlord. Motonari desperately wanted to be one
of the best. He knew he had the talent for he had
mastered the basic techniques that were taught to
the minor samurai within the first four months of his
training. Even sensei Ieyasu had been impressed by
his performance. That´s why he had decided to start
this nightly training.

At this time of the night the dojo was dark and

empty. He had to be very circumspect and stealthy to
enter this part of the school at night, because this
particular dojo was close to the quarters of Master
Muneyoshi and his sons Munenori and Mitsuyoshi.
During the past thirteen months he had studied the
Eight Tengu Techniques and by now he was well into
the Superior Manoeuvres. Tonight he started with
the yamakage, The Mountain and the Darkness
Technique. Again and again he read the text and
looked at the faded illustration. When he thought he
!20
understood the movements he switched off his torch,
grabbed his wooden bokken and began to move
through the kata. Every now and then he stopped,
returned to the scroll and pored over it again.

Suddenly the shoji screen flew open and four

shuriken were spinning towards him. Motonari´s
reflexes saved him and he managed to parry two of
them with his bokken. He threw himself to the side
avoiding the third by a hair´s breadth, but the last of
the throwing stars hit home. The pain in his thigh
was excruciating and he almost lost his balance
when he sprang up again. Two men clad in black and
their faces masked dashed forward into the dojo
their katana drawn and ready.
Motonari took his fighting stance and slowly exhaled
banning the pain and all conscious thought from his
mind, becoming an empty vessel like he had been
taught by his sensei Ieyasu. The two Shadow Walkers
moved to his left and right trying to flank him.
Moving like the wind Motonari feinted an attack to
the right, but instead charged the warrior to his left.
Slashing towards his opponent´s head he altered the
angle of his strike slightly for the head had never
been Motonari´s true aim. Too late his foe realised
his intention and tried to evade the attack but the
bokken hit his left wrist hard and his hand went
numb. However, he was far from being defeated and
countered with a one-handed cut to Motonari´s hip.
Motonari just managed to dodge to the right, that
way his opponent was between himself and the
second Shadow Walker screening him effectively
from that man´s attacks.

!21
Outside in the moonlit garden two men, wearing
night goggles, stood watching the deadly dance
taking place in the dojo. “I have to grant you that,
brother, this Motonari is really good. Had it been a
katana or even a shinken Mitsuyoshi´s wrist had
most likely been cut off.” “True. And have you seen
him combining his skills with the katana with jujutsu
techniques? Impressive, isn´t it?” “Indeed. Have
your sons been ordered to kill him?” “Yes, if they can
manage to do that. But actually I doubt it. I have been
watching Motonari for the last five month, he´s like
raw steel that needs tempering.” “So he´s stealthy,
sly and a competent fighter who can adapt and
improvise. Hmmm... you´ve got me convinced, I will
take him in if he agrees to become one of the
Overlord´s Shadow Walkers. One way or the other
tonight Ishida Motonari is going to die.”

!22
!23
 Family Business

Baron Franz Josef von Rudersdorf stood in his

luxuriously furnished study looking out of the
window. His sight wandered over the country park to
the gloomy woods beyond the palace ground´s
perimeter. The last rays of the sun were dancing
across the western horizon when he absently noticed
the park lights coming to life one by one as the
shadows crept across the palace grounds.
‘They´re out there in the woods hunting,’ he thought.
‘Well, that´s why we call this a hunting lodge, don´t
we?’ Von Rudersdorf almost sneered at this last
thought for today his men were hunting a very
special kind of game.

It was dark now, but Baron von Rudersdorf was still

standing by the window. He didn´t know for how long
he had been standing there thinking about the chain
of events that culminated in this night, the darkest in
his whole life.
Two weeks ago his son and heir Franz Ferdinand had
been brutally murdered in his apartment in
Heimburg. All the security and surveillance
equipment, all state of the art, had simply failed. The
murderer had left no trace. But murder it was. Franz
Ferdinand´s manservant had also been found dead in
his bed.
When they had received the news the next morning
the Baron´s wife had collapsed. She had always been
a delicate woman but this blow had plainly been too
m u c h fo r h e r. B a r o n v o n R u d e r s d o r f h a d

!24
immediately sent for his daughter Katharina
Elisabeth and his son Maximilian Franz, knowing
that only his son would be able to come home at short
notice since his daughter was on a business trip on
Mars.
Next he had called in a few favours in the Ministry of
Justice and had involved his Chief of Security
Kapitan Eberhard Wolf in the ongoing investigation.
Three days ago Wolf had brought him the file. He had
found a trace and unwilling to believe in his findings
until he had further proof, he had followed it and got
to the bottom of the whole affair before reporting
back to the Baron.

Baron von Rudersdorf glanced at the file on his desk.

Considering the shattering effect of Wolf´s report he
had had to act at once in order to avert further
damage from his House. He had personally talked the
matter over with the Minister of Justice who had
grudgingly conceded to his wishes. Two days ago he
had left Heimburg and told his son Maximilian Franz
to meet him today at the family´s hunting estate.

Suddenly he heard the staccato of automatic weapon

fire from outside and looking up he noticed that the
park lights had gone dead. “Gruber!” The mahogany
door to his study opened and the bulky form of his
bodyguard carrying his crested helmet under his
arm appeared in the door frame. “Herr Baron?” he
asked in his sonorous baritone. “Is everything
prepared as I have requested?” Baron von
Rudersdorf asked, a slight nervousness entering his
voice. “Jawohl, Herr Baron. Everything has been
prepared. I don´t expect any further complications,
!25
at least not more than Herr Baron had anticipated,”
his faithful bodyguard answered in a calm voice.
Taking reassurance from Gruber´s calmness von
Rudersdorf straightened his back. “Gruber?” he said.
“Herr Baron?” He hesitated for a second, then said, “I
really do appreciate your service to me and my
family and I consider you to be more than just my
bodyguard, I consider you to be a trusted friend. And
I think you should know before I ... before the
upcoming events develop any further.” “Thank you,
Herr Baron. That´s very kind of you to say and I
consider myself honoured.” Gruber answered with a
bow of his head. Another burst of an automatic
weapon echoed through the night. This one was
much closer than the last. So the game was drawing
near. “Go and take your place. Good luck to you,
Gruber, and good luck to all of us,” von Rudersdorf
said and turned away. “Herr Baron?” Von Rudersdorf
turned again and faced his bodyguard. “House
Rudersdorf will prevail as always. The Cardinal´s
Light will show you the way.” Gruber said, saluted
and left the study.
“I pray you are right.” His voice was a mere whisper
and he wished he could feel as confident as Gruber.
He had to focus on the tasks at hand, went to his desk
and lighted the candles. As he was lighting up the
candles on the side table in front of the Art Nouveau
bookcase the electric ceiling lamps began to flicker.
He went over to the wooden panel that hid the
security system and opened it. ‘The game is close
now, almost within the house,’ he thought. The
security system was still working but he knew that in
the end it would fail. How this was possible he didn´t
know, but it didn´t matter anyway.
!26
Baron von Rudersdorf closed the panel and went to
his desk. He opened the top drawer on its right, took
out his old Punisher handgun and checked it. It was
loaded and primed. He put the weapon back but left
the drawer open. His duelling sabre was casually
hanging over the back of his chair and therefore
close at hand, but he doubted that he would get the
chance of a fair duel. He sat down, reached for the file
and started reading it again. He had reached page
five when the electric light finally failed. ‘Close now,
very close.’ A minute later a shot cracked right in
front of the door and a body slumped down to the
floor.

Von Rudersdorf felt old when he got up behind his

desk in order to receive his visitor. The beautifully
inlaid mahogany door opened ever so slowly. “Guten
Abend, Vater.” On the threshold to his study stood a
young man, his blond hair dishevelled, mud and
blood covering his noble face and staining his boots
and hunting coat. He was pointing his MP 105 at his
father´s chest. “Maximilian, my son. Please, do come
in,” the Baron said reluctantly. “As warm and
welcoming as ever! It´s me, your only son and heir!”
Maximilian purposely emphasized the words. “You
must admit that´s quite difficult while someone is
pointing a gun at you, isn´t it?” Baron von
Rudersdorf managed to keep his voice calm.
“Speaking of guns. Would you be so kind and remove
your old handgun from the top most drawer on the
left of your desk and shove it to the desk´s edge. But
please, do it with the utmost caution! It´d be a pity if
I had to shoot you before we could have a decent
conversation.” His voice was dripping with disdain.
!27
The Baron did as he was told. “And now, sit down
please! We shall have a little talk before I shoot you
and take over the House and family affairs.”
Maximilian went over to the ancient Chesterfield
lounge chair, his eyes never leaving his father who
sat down at his desk. The candles burning on the side
table bathed Maximilian´s face in a fiery glow. Baron
von Rudersdorf forced himself to look away and he
focused instead on the shadowed corpse in front of
his study watching the crested helmet of the dead
man. His son followed his gaze. “I never liked Gruber.
Ever so obedient, always the perfect servant. Well, he
decided to blow out his brain. And it just needed a
little push to make him do so.” Maximilian said
smiling mischievously. “I have to confess I really was
surprised that you found out and I still wonder how
you managed. It seems that I underestimated you as
well as that bastard Wolf. So how did you find out
that I killed my brother Ferdinand?” It pained von
Rudersdorf to hear his son talking so casually of that
murder. “It was Kapitan Wolf who found out. As you
know I had him involved in the investigation and
after realizing that Ferdinand´s fingernails had been
cleaned after his death he had known there had been
a fight.” Maximilian lifted his left and touched his
neck. The movement obviously pained him and there
was fresh blood on his hand. ‘So he´s wounded,’ von
Rudersdorf noted. “Yes, there was a little fight and he
scratched my neck. But what was my mistake? I still
do not understand.” Maximilian said in a superior
manner. “Easy. He found some hair on Ferdinand´s
clothes and had it analysed. It was yours. He didn´t
want to believe in his results and the consequences,

!28
so he decided instead of telling me he would keep you
under surveillance. And you proved him right.”
Baron von Rudersdorf shoved the file across the
table. “Here, you can read all of it in these
documents. Therein is all the evidence that you
committed at least five brutal murders within the
last two weeks including your own brother. You are a
serial killer, a monster.” It was hard to look in his
son´s cold and icy eyes but he didn´t flinch from
doing so for his House and family were at stake as
well as his honour. Maximilian suddenly laughed,
“Five muders? Just five? Within the last month I
killed thirteen people not including Wolf and the
others I killed today.” The smile on his face died
away. “But you can hardly call this murder. Today it
was just self-defence. So I can´t be sued for that, can
I? Maybe I should have you sued for ordering me
shot, but that wouldn´t be as satisfying as killing you
with my own hands.” With a sarcastic sneer on his
face he continued, “Anyway, you will be dead, killed
in a hunting accident, the evidence will be destroyed
and I will do my duty and inherit the title and rule
the House.” “None of this is ever going to happen!”
Baron von Rudersdorf was glaring at his son. “I
personally informed the Minister of Justice. So there
is no future for you within our House nor Bauhaus!”
He spat these words out and felt a deep satisfaction
when he realized that this blow hit home. “You old
scheming bastard!” His son was boiling with rage.
“Get up! I promise you this: Your death will be slow
and painful and together with my new master I will
wage war against Bauhaus eternally!” He had sprung
to his feet and waved his gun to back his words up.

!29
Baron von Rudersdorf got up and knew it was over.
He closed his eyes and resigned to his fate.

A deafening shot cracked in Baron von Rudersdorf´s

study and a body dropped heavily to the floor.

Baron von Rudersdorf opened his eyes. “Thank you,

Gruber. Your timing was as meticulous as ever.” The
muscled soldier stood in the door over the corpse of
the guardsman posing as von Rudersdorf´s
bodyguard. The Baron looked at his dead son
scornfully. “Will you please look after this mess and
see to it that this guard´s family is recompensed
accordingly. This uncomely family business has been
concluded. Thank you, Gruber!” “Jawohl, Herr
Baron.” Gruber saluted and left.

“I always told you to pay attention to the details but

you never listened anyway.” Baron von Rudersdorf
took up his weapons and marched out of the room.

!30
!31
 A Hunter´s Game

‘Hunting is about two things, knowing your game, as

intimately as possible, and patience.’ That´s what his
father had told Sir Geoffrey Dunsirn again and again.
And he had kept explaining and repeating it to his
hunting party for the last couple of days. ‘And is one
to place over the other? No, I don´t think so. Both are
of particular importance.’ ‘True,’ Sir Geoffrey
thought, ‘but one can be understood easily, whereas
the other has to be learnt the hard way.’ For seven
days he and his hunting party had been waiting in
their dugouts for their quarry to show up. But so far
it hadn´t done them the favour.
Nine days ago they had come to the valley and
checked all the trails leading down into it. He had
narrowed them down to three, which were most
likely to be used by the game he had in mind. The
following day they had scouted them closely and
after a couple of hours Sir Geoffrey had picked his
favourite. Next they had studied the terrain to find
the perfect place for their dugouts. He had wanted to
trap their game in a crossfire, since simply wounding
it could prove fatal for the hunting party and Sir
Geoffrey had wanted to keep risks to a minimum.
Finding that spot had taken up the remainder of the
day. On the third day they had dug themselves in and
camouflaged their hideouts. That had been the easy
part of their hunt, because they had had something
to do. Then the waiting had begun and waiting was
the part that could really get on your nerves. But
being a veteran to many a hunt, Sir Geoffrey was

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used to it by now and had developed his own ways to
kill time.
Two days into keeping an eye out for their quarry a
wing of ravens had come from the north over the
mountains and circled the valley for almost ten
minutes before moving on to the west. Half an hour
later they had returned and again circled the valley
for a couple of minutes. Finally they had withdrawn
whence they had come across the mountains. Sir
Geoffrey had known it to be a good omen for their
hunt. A wing of ravens often were the heralds of
much larger game to come. So they had been on the
right track, he could feel it in his guts. Three days ago
at mid-morning Wilson, whose watch it had been, had
informed him of a lone jackal that came down the
trail cautiously. Being the Master of the Hunt Sir
Geoffrey had to decide whether to kill it or not.
Balancing the facts at hand and his vast experience
he had swiftly settled on the latter, because a jackal
hadn´t been the kind of game he had been hoping for.
He had known that some members of his hunting
party had been disgruntled, but as Master of the
Hunt he alone had the right to decide. So they had
watched it creeping down into the valley and
returning a few hours later.
But he knew all that hadn´t been in vain, for right
now he could hear the growling and roaring of really
big game, a pair of grizzlies. Being fearless predators
they wound down the narrow trail gruntingly. “Okay
boys, here they come,” Sir Geoffrey announced to his
mates nearby. “Spread the word, I want it to be done
by the book. First volley has to stopp them dead in
their tracks. Second and third volley have to kill
them. If not, run, for a wounded grizzly is a ruthless
!33
killer machine!” Saying that Sir Geoffrey shouldered
his Southpaw Rocket Launcher, aimed carefully and
unleashed his first salvo of anti-armour rockets at
the approaching tanks. In less than a minute the
Dunsirn Hunters reduced the two Bauhaus tanks to
burning wreckage.

!34
!35
 Excerpt from a McKenzie Base
City Guide

If you are out for a night of rough and joyous

drinking go and visit `The Shamrock´, a notorious
pub on Cheap Street. This place is always crowded
with off-duty Blood Berets drinking heavily and
letting off some steam. And if you are lucky you are
in on one of their famous shanty nights. But if you
are really lucky they attempt to set a new record of
improvised verses of their favourite shanty `Roll the
old Chariot along´. Their standing record is 387
verses in a row.

Here are some verses to help you join in. Don´t

worry about the tune, after two pints of ale you´ll
blend in perfectly.

Roll the old Chariot along

(Famous Blood Beret Shanty)

And a quiet night afield wouldn´t do us any harm,

a quiet night afield wouldn´t do us any harm,
a quiet night afield wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we´ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.
!36
Oh, a drop of Nepharite blood wouldn´t do us any
harm,
a drop of Nepharite blood wouldn´t do us any harm,
a drop of Nepharite blood wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we´ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

And a tankard full of ale wouldn´t do us any harm,

a tankard full of ale wouldn´t do us any harm,
a tankard full of ale wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

If we spied a Nepharite´s bones wouldn´t do us any

harm,
If we spied a Nepharite´s bones wouldn´t do us any
harm,
If we spied a Nepharite´s bones wouldn´t do us any
harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
!37
we’ll roll the bones in chariots along,
we’ll roll the bones in chariots along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

And a shot of Drougan malt wouldn´t do us any

harm,
a shot of Drougan malt wouldn´t do us any harm,
a shot of Drougan malt wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

Oh, a kiss of Her Serenity wouldn´t do us any harm,

a kiss of Her Serenity wouldn´t do us any harm,
a kiss of Her Serenity wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

And a plate of Murdoch stew wouldn´t do us any

harm,
a plate of Murdoch stew wouldn´t do us any harm,
a plate of Murdoch stew wouldn´t do us any harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
!38
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

And some barrels full of gold wouldn´t do our city

harm,
some barrels full of gold wouldn´t do our city harm,
some barrels full of gold wouldn´t do our city harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.

CHORUS:
And, we’ll roll the old chariot along,
we’ll roll the gold in chariots along,
we’ll roll the gold in chariots along
and we’ll all hang on behind.

Come on, join in and get up on the table to perform

your own verses!

To be continued…

So say tuned!
!39
!40