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White Hounds Holocaust Campaign 5: The secret diary of Captain Duggie McTavish (Age 63 ¾)

The secret diary of Captain Duggie McTavish (Age 63 ¾)

The Cap’n

Returning to his grand high muck muck Commandante Doctor Velazquez and his Gestapo coat (what is he a doctor of anyway?), Liesel and myself brought back the lassy magician Francesca and that mountain she drags around with her. Arno? Arnie? Anyway, that’s not important, he was useful in carrying that mad bastard sheep I had single handedly brought down with my cutlass. The wee Liesel had been bothering the magician for tricks and scampering about like the demented wee thing that she is.

Arno watch his pecs jiggle

When we arrived at camp the Commandante (made up title I’m sure) was skinned for a few litres of cooking oil when trying to play cards against the magician – who plays cards with a magician, they know what cards you have? Francesca noted that there has been activity on the east coast including a ship being stolen by some group of militant nutcases (great another group of nutcases, as if I don’t have enough here). Sitting around the fire we spent some time planning our next move, though the Commandante completely ignored my suggestions only listening to the scrap of a girl Liesel. So, it was decided to go and speak to the ‘hunters’ up on El Bujero to gain information and negotiate the putting up the first antenna.

The three are rather better armed than we are and it was decided to engage in friendly banter with them. It appears they are missing someone important from their party and are desperate to find them. They took rather an interest in our equipment but using canny guile I persuaded them to let us set up the antenna and not pinch it. It turns out they are even bigger idiots than the current lot, they seem to be following the old Scientology cult, always steered a course away from them lot when I saw them in the street. That said they appear to have quite the power as they are sailing with a flotilla of vessels including a couple of liners and several smaller ships commanded by a Commodore. One to avoid there I think, even what the Commandante and his cronies can put out are no match for anything that size, but if I could cut away a small boat and supplies…. Maybe in return for their missing elder….

The missing man

Well, first antenna is up, so we’re now heading into the badlands towards Montana Negra and the others have picked a bunch of the loony nuns as guards. They’ve also handed over that Catholic priest – not sure what for. I have no wish to see any man fed to the fishes but that one will be trouble; you mark my words.

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