Chucklemonkey

There are actually a number of things I would consider switching in for Bad Juju. Wicked dolls like others have mentioned. 2 Stitched, or possibly even a Mature Nephilim if you definitely want a big hitter. (Fairly sure, although I don't have my book to hand that Juju is immune to influence whereas the MN is not) I also think there would be some mileage in dropping Juju, the extra stone and the single wicked doll for the twins, but I love the twins....

Christopher Walken

A very nicely thought out story. I did get a little confused about the setting of the third part, although I get the feeling that may have been intentional. Surprised I missed this story until now. Keep writing and I will keep reading.

Thanks very much. Once I start one I do tend to rattle through a story quickly so it won't be long till part 2 is up.

Part 1 -------------------------------------------------------------------- Winter in Malifaux offered the same pretence as any of the Earth-side large cities thought Balthazar Johnson, as he wrapped the scarf around his neck and began to do up the toggles of his thick brown duffel-coat. A dusting of white turned even the grimiest streets into an almost pleasing milieu of timbered gingerbread style houses, food carts, and children too busy pretending they had dragon’s breath to try to pick pockets for change. Balthazar had lived in this City for long enough though. He knew better than most that no matter how it may appear to the casual observer, Malifaux was no place to wander lonely in the dark, and as the nights drew in it meant that careful planning was in order to make sure you were indoors and safe from the miscreants and monsters who lurked in the shadows. Luckily for him, organisation and planning were Balthazar’s specialty, and that is why he worked here, at the Guild Hall of Records, cataloguing and filing away any documents that were deemed important enough to store. The vast majority of his work was of course maintaining the large numbers of criminal records that seemed to present themselves on a daily basis. Luckily there was not a requirement for an extended storage period for such items. Balthazar arranged his hat to the required angle, grabbed his ornate ivory handled walking cane from the stand to the left of the door, and took a moment to check himself in the mirror as he once again ran through in his mind the route he would be using to get home to his wife and that stupid, layabout son of his. He would turn left as he exited the building, walking past two junctions until he reached Markham Street, where he would turn right and continue – on the left side of the road – for a good ten minutes, before a left onto Oak Street quickly followed by another left onto Thatchley where he would pass the Church of St Michaels – a church he had heard had been going downhill rapidly since they had drafted in their new preacher – and finally, a right onto his street, Temple-green, where he would have a five minute walk before reaching the front of what he called, perhaps slightly generously, his house. It was a journey that he only took during the Winter months as it allowed him to travel on some of the City’s main thoroughfares, and assuming the night would be like most others, the most danger he should encounter was the possibility of getting splashed by horses as they trampled through the melting snows by the roadsides. In Summer he would allow himself the luxury of passing Belsey Park, but at this time of year he would leave that to those who had yet to feel the cold steel of a mugger’s blade entering the base of their spine. All in all it would take approximately twenty five minutes before he would be sitting, warming himself in front of an open fire, maybe with a glass of wine, and with that pleasant thought he pulled the door back and stepped into the frigid evening. He reached Markham Street without drama, and by his reckoning thought that he may already be around a minute ahead of schedule. He checked his watch to find that he was entirely correct. Now he had the long walk to Oak Street, and despite the number of individuals trying to palm leaflets for the Star Theater’s new show – a blight on the landscape as far as he was concerned – he knew it offered relative safety as a result of the new lighting systems that had been put in place a number of years before. A group of youths were approaching from further down the street and Balthazar found his pace slowing and his right hand gripping the ram’s head of his cane tighter, ready to strike out as they neared. He could feel the tension in his chest become near unbearable as the four teenage boys got to within five feet of him. And then they passed; ignoring him completely. He removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his brow before replacing it, next to his breath-mints. He was approaching forty-eight years old now and yet he knew that the last three years had not been kind to him. Not simply because of the incident itself, but what it had made him become. A withered old man living in fear and flirting only with the edges of society; a shadow himself. At that moment he knew something would have to be done, but not now. In any event, the delay would have cost him precious time and he checked his watch again before making the two sharp turns onto Thatchley Street. He was alone now, this being the quietest part of the journey, and he immediately felt the usual discomfort. He girded himself and strode forward. It was then that he first heard the noise. A rhythmic heavy banging. He looked along the row of stone houses on his right and saw nothing that could be making such a sound. He moved forward warily, careful to check that nobody was approaching from behind. A further hundred yards onwards and the sound was still present, now though he was able to determine that its source had to be from St Michaels. He took a few more steps forward but was still not at an angle to see into the stone alcove that protected the main entrance from the worst of the elements. He knew that all was not right however, as he could now make out flickering amber lights from behind the stained glass windows. Candles in a church would not normally arouse his concerns but this was the first time he had seen such light emanating from the church on his commute homewards. If not now, when? He thought to himself. If he allowed the fear to govern his actions for the remainder of his days he knew it would be a joyless life. With that thought, Balthazar approached the heavy oak door that he could now see was being smashed against its housing by the bitter winds. Despite the fear, and the almost unbearably tight grip of his hand on the cane, Balthazar felt exhilarated as he climbed the three stone steps and entered the Church. He did not know if any genuine dangers lurked within, indeed, the logical part of his mind told him that there would be none. What he did know however, was that this was not normal behaviour for him; at least it had not been for the past three years. He tilted his head to see past the drawn back velvet curtains guarding the entry to the auditorium. It was clear that the lights he had seen dancing from outside were indeed the standard white wax candles he had imagined, yet it was still too dark to make out much else. “Hello..... Is anyone there?” He enquired of the darkness. “Preacher.....anybody?” He was starting to regret being so bold and, had the slightest noise have emanated from within, would have turned tail and fled; but there was none. Not knowing why, his left hand reached out to touch the curtains as he entered the auditorium and stepped past the back three rows of pews. He could hear something else now, barely audible, but it was there. A drip, and then another, and then another and a muffled sound, like someone in prayer. “This isn’t funny you know! I don’t think anyone is supposed to be in here, show yourself” before quickly adding “I’m a member of the Guild you know.” He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. As he reached the middle of the aisle his field of vision cleared the top of the first pew in front of the sanctuary and his stomach both dropped to the floor and nearly exploded into his mouth simultaneously. The dim candle-light bleached out the colour of a liquid he knew would be a deep scarlet red staining the marbled floor, on either side of which was half of a grown man’s body fully cleaved. His mind swam and he felt faint, instinctively reaching for the row of seats nearest him, the grip on his cane fell loose and he fell forward only just managing to grasp the oak pew and support himself. He felt breathless, despite the fact he had not felt his chest work so hard in a considerable time. He raised his head slightly and it was then that he saw the dark hooded figure to his left in the front row, seated and head bowed as if in prayer. Balthazar tried to speak but found himself unable to do so. As the figure began to rise from its seated position Balthazar’s eyes were locked upon it and yet he could not utter a sound and as it began to turn towards him, even Balthazar’s eyes would no longer obey him as all around him became black and he felt himself fall towards the cold stone floor.

I have read it and pledged to comment but feel I need to read your previous entries. Still, I will certainly do just that.

And after that there is the opportunity of trying to fill up the gaps on the event boards. I'm fairly sure a cruise ship entering the Antarctic circle should have sufficient facilities for a tournament to be held... I may be on my own with that one but I can see it.

Now realising that my dreamer crew will never make it off the ground I'm looking to trade the big teddy. If anyone wants him and has any of the following to trade please pm me. Collodi box set Ophelia box set Young Lacroix Hooded Rider Doppelganger Insidious Madness.

I do remember seeing something about Catherine and thinking it looked interesting. Not sure when it's due out but will be taking a look at it. From the previous recommendations I bought fallout 3 first and currently ploughing plenty of hours into it.

Welcome to the fray. Hopefully you will enjoy the game and the forums!

Look forward to giving this a listen tonight hopefully. As for that tram, Ramos couldn't get that moving!

I very much enjoyed it. The conversation and thoughts piper was having during it flowed really nicely. Also despite not a huge amount of description of their surrounding, you still managed to create an atmosphere. Really Looking forward to part 2 and beyond.

Guilty as charged. I will join in with this policy.

Just wanting to add my thanks to all for a great day. As for that peacekeeper..no, I can't justify that.

Likely to be closer to 10 than half 9 for us from Newcastle too.

Have been painting and listening to music all day. Sneaker pimps Flunk Supreme beings of Leisure to name a few of the days choices. Mostly though it's CSi as background painting material for me.

What Ciaran says. The only exception I can think of is Minion Hamelin and that is specific to the wording of his spell.

I pretty much agree entirely. I have recently been getting into WM/H and have actually played in a few tournaments, it seems like one of the best ways to learn fast, and I am glad there is no painting requirement from PP as I simply would not have been able to enter otherwise. I can sort of see why Wyrd has the requirement given the origin of the company - and also the small scale of the game I suppose - but I still make you right Ispep. If a company isn't going to lose money from the fact their miniatures are un-painted, then I fail to see why the players aren't free to choose.

I wasn't implying anybody fixed anything, just saying that there already seems to be an argument about it and that can't be good by anyone's standard.

You have to remember that with the UK being so small it means that the players come across each other more, it probably gives rise to more room for disagreements between the players at the top of the rankings who take such matters seriously, whereas in the US I imagine the top players may be from completely different coastlines and may never even play each other. I believe one of the pro's put forward of rankings was the drawing in of new players. I'm fairly sure any players taking a look at the system and seeing these threads will not be interested in attending due to the nature of the discourse taking place. What is it, 3 months in, and there are already arguments about score fixing? Edit: Whilst trying to steer clear of the merits of rankings, I do know that a number of top warmachine players who are not switched on with RHQ plan on doing so before telling the organiser where to stick the invitation thereby making the composition of the tourney nothing like a top 16.

It shows as italics for whoever you voted for. Collodi is in italics for me. I mostly voted for him due to his theme.

Mostly just because of its popularity in London during the era I picture Malifaux in, I can see a few different options available, but a Porter style beer has to be in there somewhere. I may just think that because they are delicious but hey, it is as good a reason as any other.

well, not sure on the scale for this one but it can definitely be bought http://www.frpgames.com/cart.php?m=product_detail&p=37136 Don't know of any UK based mini lines in this regard but will keep looking.

Something like this? http://www.g-m-e.com/images/gme%20gypsy%20wagon%20web.jpg From GME, website below: http://www.g-m-e.com/laserkit.html

Sisters graduation. That and switching back to my original avatar. Lurking mostly these days, back for good in November though. Also, nice job getting 17000 silver. Who saw that coming when this thread started?