a computer crash on saturday after 6 hours of audio processing….

normally the AMD chip freezes up, but gets going again after a few hours of cooling time….but no, not this time.

$400 later, a new MB, CPU and RAM and we are cooking with gas…almost, the PSU wasn’t big enough, so I’ve cobbled two PSU’s together to give the MB the juice….damn these upgrade paths….

…and a tardy, but fun webiste on the sisters is up……

http://www.las.sa.edu.au/it/la05/index.html

be patient with the flash files, not too big….only two main ones….wait for the screens to load….

and crappy flash stuff I know, but time just oozed away from me, and with the vehicles still looking way dodgy, painting time was needed. I wanted more sound and the “vibe” of the chapel to come through, but it wasn’t to be….

….ahhhh, good fun nonetheless…….thank the emperor for audacity and usb mp3 players.

THE MEETING

The Wolstian Sub-Sector, the planet Manche. An uprising threatens to throw the whole planet into chaos, and into the hands of the dark gods…

The crowd surged forward again to their position and the press of bodies threatened to overcome the Space Wolf defensive barricades. Littered around were the corpses of hundreds of cultists, the stigmata of chaos plainly upon them. For four days they had continued to throw themselves at the Space Wolves positions with reckless abandon, no thought for their own lives and with only the desires of their dark masters in their hearts. Nothing more than the Space Wolves superhuman marine endurance and stubborn refusal to give way had stopped this uprising in its tracks, but even now that couldn’t hold back the weight of numbers that was bearing down on them.

“Wolf Lord”, came a call over the comm-net, “We cannot hold our position much longer”

“Hold them Mattheaus!” Haakon Ironwolf spoke back into the comm-net pickup, “They cannot be allowed to break our line.”

“Yes Lord”, was the only reply, the staccato report of bolters acknowledging that his order was being carried out.

Haakon looked out at the oncoming horde. Even he knew that it was only a matter of time before they overran his position, and in all likeliness taking him down. So this is how it ends, he thought, My saga finishes here, A true warrior’s death facing my foes. But something is wrong…

He could see Tjalfe bringing Kaloth’s Blood Claw pack forward, in preparation for a counter charge, when of a sudden there was a bright flash of light across the square, and the sound of a mass of bikes could be heard, even over the constant wailing and shrieking from the enemy masses. A scent was also in the air, he tasted it immediately.

It smelt like nothing he had smelt before. It smelt of ancient Space Wolves. And it smelt of death.

From where the light had flashed he could see heretics bodies being flung through the air – and what seemed to be a wedge of grey-armoured bikers heading towards his position. There was also with a number of crazed Space Wolves, on foot and with a Wolf Priest in attendance, butchering in animalistic slaughter all those that stood before them.

With renewed energy Haakon’s axe rose and fell with the promise of death to all that were touched by it, whilst around him Kjarveld’s Pack gave support, their bolter shells never failing to find a mark amongst the horde and every fall of their blades consigning another heretic to oblivion. To his right Tjalfe led the Blood Claws into a charge that sent the cultists reeling back, into the path of the oncoming bikers…and certain death.

Fighting his way forward Haakon finally came face to face with what appeared to be the leader of this strange grey-armoured in the middle of the square. They both lowered their weapons, the pheremones released by the Space Wolf gene-helix giving them the ability to communicate on almost a subliminal level as they sought to identify and understand the familiar, yet almost alien scent each possessed.

Haakon spoke first. “My name is Haakon Ironwolf and I serve Leman Russ and the Immortal Emperor. Identify yourself.”

In an archaic form of Imperial Gothic, the gigantic figure astride the bike replied.

“How very interesting, Haakon Ironwolf. I too serve Russ and the Emperor. My name is Berek Ironsteed and the Hounds of Russ are my pack.”

He moved his bike away and then turned his head to speak.

“We are of the 13th Company, Haakon Ironwolf, and we are here to fight against those that would defy the will of the Emperor. But now is neither the time nor place for introductions – let us fight together against these traitors first, and then we can discuss this meeting again.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Berek Ironsteed,” replied Haakon, laughing, “Let us lead our packs to glory and victory. For Russ! For the Emperor!”

**************************************

Haakon Ironwolf stood quietly in what had previously been the Hall of Ancients. He viewed the devastation all around him, and could almost taste the residual taint of chaos. He could hear his Great Company securing the area, and he had ordered the silencing of any last bastions of resistance to be left to the freshly arrived Imperial Guard – the fighting in the last week had been fierce but they had prevailed, with the help from those grey-armoured ancient Space Wolves from the Lost 13th Company.

Striding into the hall came the Wulfen Lord Berek Ironsteed, flanked by his Rune Priest and Storm Claw bodyguard. They looked slightly uncomfortable without their bikes, yet still gave an air of being supremely dangerous to all that encountered them.

Stopping in front of Haakon, Berek turned his head, sniffed and nodded towards the darkness in the corner. Helfdar Nightstalker stepped forward and smiled.

“I didn’t presume for you to not notice me, Wulfen Lord” he said, his blue eyes flashing.

The Wulfen Lord smiled back, then spoke directly to Haakon.

“Wolf Lord Haakon, we have fought our enemies for what appears to be almost an eternity, and only by the blessing of Russ do we return. You are all young pups to us, although your sagas are long, and we see the greatness in your Company that has always been a trademark of the Space Wolves and that pleases us.

“You seek a foe that we also have encountered in our travels. We have a grudge that must be revenged. You understand this.”

“Yes,” Haakon snarled in reply, “The Plague Lord thinks to challenge us and therefore the Imperium from across the void.”

From the door of the hall came the voice of the Hounds Wolf Priest.

“Then we must do what we can, and what we should. My Lord Berek, I would counsel that we take to the sky with our young Battle Brothers – for the first time in 10,000 years – and travel with them to this “Forexx Sector” and liberate where and what we can for Russ and the Emperor. It is what is expected of us.”

Berek was silent for a moment, then spoke again.

“It has been a long time since we have partaken in a Great Feast in preparation for battle.”

Then laughing and clapping Haakon on the shoulder, he said “And I also think it would be too good an opportunity to catch up on the sagas of our Chapter these last few millennia, don’t you think?”

Haakon grinned in agreement, and then spoke into the comm-net.

“Tjalfe, summon the Thunderhawks. We ride to war.”

Since 2004 there has been an annual competition for trans-Tasman 40k dominance known as “The Battle of the Ditch”.

And here is the trophy in its current form, shields updated for NZ’s 2008 win. Charlie St. Clair as newest NZ team member is current custodian.

The event now has it’s own trophy, created by Craig Maloney and painted by Ben Leong. The inaugural challenge was held at the 2004 Australian GT. Since 2005 the trophy has been contested at Liber Animus as a separate event.

The results for the competitions to date are as follows:

2004
Hagen Kerr & Pete Dunn (NZ) beat Tony Perkins & Chris Mitchell (Aus)

2005
Hagen Kerr (NZ) beat Dan Stamford (Aus)
Pete Dunn (NZ) beat Leigh Avery (Aus)
Stephen Kelsall (Aus) beat Richard Dagger (NZ)
NZ 2-1

2006
Pete Dunn (NZ) beat Craig Maloney (Aus)
Jack Dunn (NZ) beat Stephen Kelsall (Aus)
Brodie Middleton (Aus) beat Richard Dagger (NZ)
Rick McKay (Aus) drew with Jason Holland (NZ)
Alan Borthwick (NZ) beat David Potts (Aus)
Craig Latta (NZ) beat Stu Williams (Aus)
Hagen Kerr (NZ) beat Ben Shipway (Aus)
Jason Isaac (NZ) beat Michael Cruise (Aus)
Chris Parkin (NZ) beat Alex Ozanne (Aus)
Dave Cleverley (NZ) beat Tom Damin (Aus)
Bruce Manning (NZ) beat Leigh Trsidder (Aus)
Greg Rae (NZ) drew with Kin Sum (Aus)
NZ 10 to 2

2007
Pete Dunn (NZ) beat Stu Williams (Aus)
Jason Millar (Aus) beat Jack Dunn (NZ)
Alan Borthwick (NZ) beat Michael Blair (Aus)
Brad Scott (Aus) beat John Tailby (NZ)
Hagen Kerr (NZ) beat Leigh Avery (Aus)
Matthew O’Shaughnessy (Aus) beat Jason Isaac (NZ)
David Cleverley (NZ) beat Craig Maloney (Aus)
Michael Cruise (Aus) beat Richard Dagger (NZ)
Greg Rae (NZ) beat James Thompson (Aus)
Andrew Johnston (NZ) beat Adam Davis (Aus)
NZ 6-4

2008
Pete Dunn (NZ) drew with Tom Damin (Aus)
Alan Borthwick (NZ) beat Ash Graham (Aus)
John Tailby (NZ) drew with Dan Atrill (Aus)
Kane Tucker (Aus) beat Jack Dunn (NZ)
Jason Isaac (NZ) beat Michael Blair (Aus)
Charlie St. Clair (NZ) beat Michael Cruise (Aus)
Hagen Kerr (NZ) drew with Brad Scott (Aus)
NZ 4.5-2.5

SOURCE: http://thefieldsofblood.blogspot.com/2008/12/battle-of-ditch-40k-trans-tasman-cup.html

Our reporter, Simone Poohforbrains made a date to catch the “Bridesmaid” on his home turf, in suburban Christchurch. Simone’s story captures the soul of this complex and passionate man. Over to Simone….

I arrived slightly late, having got caught in the traffic exiting Christchuch’s business district, the predictable jam around the newly installed traffic lights attracting as many spectators as commuters. A brand new Morris Minor cuts daringly between the Ford Prefects and Hillman Imps, pointing the way to a daringly new future. Hagen’s place is set back from the road, surrounded by manicured gardens, already I was getting a feel for the conundrum, the riddle of a man who on the one hand typifies the solidarity of an older generation, but could be the voice of the new. Stepping inside I can’t help but notice the plethora of modern appliances, the doorbell ringing crisply, a telephone on the hallway table and an electric clock marking the passage of time. Hagen politely takes my coat and hat and ushers me into his loungeroom. In the background, “The Sweet”, (“Ballroom Blitz”currently number 5 in the top 40, choice. Ed), plays on a modern record player, the collection of vinyl stacked behind testament to Hagen’s love of music.

I open the conversation with a gambit:

“You have been accused of being too avant-garde for the older generation of New Zealanders, how do you reconcile your Imperialist politics with the emergence of technology ?”

Hagen purses his lips, hands clasped together as if in prayer and smiles wistfully. I brace myself. Have I offended the great man with my question ? Hagen’s sensitive side has been well documented, who will ever forget his passionate appeal to the Government for the introduction of sensitivity training for GW playtesters….

“ It isn’t hard you know. Imperialistic….are you going to drink that ?….policies are but one segment of an over arching…..strange, I could have sworn I’d mended that crochet doily…..philosophy that runs deeply in the New Zealander psyche. Take my use of template weapons as an example, many would argue…..yes, thanks, I’ll have my tea later in the conservatory darling…..they have no place in the conduct of gentlemanly gaming, but I would…no, he’ll have to wait, the Christian Men’s Association annual dance needs to be as gay as possible and bringing it forward before the…..yes ?….bunting is prepared…..no, absolutely not…….say the skill required to place, delicately mind you, with sensitivity, pie plates, is not to be dismissed lightly….I say, that is a smashing skirt ? a little short for my liking……where was I ?….ah yes…..the wolf scouts were a travesty of course, we can all see that now, but at the time they were…..No, I thought the veil offset the cream dress beautifully and will match my beige safari suit perfectly…..well , perhaps a little too advanced for the age of men at arms and they only had themselves to blame. The colour scheme was very well executed though, my man in Wellington co-ordinated the whole thing and without style, what have you got exactly hmmmm ?”

Hagen sits back in his chair, adjusting his cravat to a rakish angle, not the slightest bit exhausted for having spent the better part of 3 minutes talking without taking a breath. The rumours of his passion were well founded. I find myself bemused by his rapid fire delivery of sentences, his comb-over flicking back and forth as his head nods energetically in time to his staccato assertions. I try another tack, probing this great intellect and oft misunderstood genius.

“Modern marriage ? Your opinions are well documented. Will you ever lose the bridesmaid title ? Will your time….”

I can’t get the sentence out before Hagen interrupts me, his small, pig like eyes rolling slavishly behind his glinting spectacles.

“It was my choice, mine alone and Dunn, well, Dunn and Borthwick…”

He emphasises the “and” as if it were some conspiracy…

“… are cheapening the whole ideal of the institution. They have no respect for the tenets of composition. They complain, constantly you know, about my scouts but they never led me up the aisle did they ? A simple poll would show they are not overpowered and the proof is in the eating…..one day this damn decade will end and we will join the rest of the world as it surges forward into the 80’s and then, mark my words, the Australians, the Canadians and the ….sorry ?…..2007 ?….are you sure ?….yes well….oh blast, get the phone will you darling and tell the operator I am busy….thanks Graeme….sorry, where was I ? ….Dunn, he coined it you know ? back in ’76, he was jealous over my Leyland P76 and while it did fit that 44 gallon drum, it wouldn’t fit Borthwick’s head in the boot would it ? That was the whole problem, subjectivity and lack of respect for people who say a lot of things in very long sentences. Frankly, I’m not happy being the bridesmaid and I wish it would end, but what can a young…..no, I said I was busy, and pass me my Dubonnet if you wouldn’t mind please Graeme, in the tall glass thankyou……man in Christchurch do ? paint I suppose ? the Triumph Herald doesn’t need cleaning this week and with the 2500TC about to be released, what is there to do except paint ? That’s what makes us so good down here, away from the smoke of Wellington and all the distractions of that hedonistic society. Pretenders of course….one day I shall be the bride, my tactical execution will be second to none……do be a darling and get me some ice Graeme….we had some delivered this morning didn’t we ?…..the blending of red and grey was divine, if I do say so myself, so the sisters deserved their place, but, , well, it was too late, all I seem good for it to follow in Dunn’s footsteps….”

At this point, Graeme, Hagen’s manservant runs to his side to console him, darting a furious look towards me and hissing “there is no need to bring these issues up”. The emphasis on the word “Ithuse”.

Then the much admired phenomena takes place. The transformation. Hagen’s demeanour changes from a pathetic, sobbing bridesmaid into a man of conviction, of resilience and determination.

“But I’ll show them, Liber Animus will be my crowning glory. Dunn hasn’t been there before has he ? Liber Animus is Dunn’s Bridesmaids party, and that is where I will be the Bride, before him…..and I shall wear the pink frilly underwear and he will be forced to catch my bouquet, it will be mine, all mine, nothing else is important, I deserve it”