Chucklemonkey

Well that makes my mind up then.

Is it not 54mm? It is nice either way.

Mrs Barnaby placed the deck of cards back into her handbag with an air of satisfaction; it was not often that she failed in her little games of solitaire. She leant back and rested her head against the back of the seat. She always enjoyed her trips to Malifaux; it wasn’t the place itself that gave her joy, in truth she found it slightly frightening and it was certainly confusing in its layout. No, it was the mere fact that it represented the one time a year she would get to see her son, who, if everything was to be believed, was doing very well for himself there. She was very proud of what he had achieved, despite the sadness that, in order to find a vocation at which he could succeed, he had been required to move so far from her. She slipped her reading glasses down and rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. No matter how often she had taken this journey the last few moments before the train reached the breach was always a nervous time. She looked around the carriage trying to guess from the various states of agitation who were veterans of the sojourn through the breach and who were about to experience it for the first time. This was another of the regular little games she played with herself, and despite never knowing for sure how she did, she felt she was right far more often than not. Today she noted that the carriage was practically empty, this was surely a result of taking the first train of the day. She didn’t want to waste time that could be spent with her son after all. Firstly, across the aisle there was a single man in a bowler hat; he had dark brown hair and a moustache. He was wearing quite the most revolting shirt she had ever seen but despite that she thought him rugged and handsome. Had she been forty years younger she may have considered dropping her handkerchief, although these days she doubted if anyone had the manners or courtesy to retrieve it. He was clearly nervous, but not overly so, and as a result she concluded that he was a repeat visitor. The train was surely approaching the breach now and she could feel the tension in her stomach mount. There was still time for another passenger or two surely. Two rows down and facing her, were two men and a young girl, perhaps the age of five, she was wearing a pale blue dress and her blonde hair was in pigtails, she was quite the prettiest little thing that Mrs Barnaby had seen in a long time. She found the composition of the group odd though, where was the girl’s mother? Perhaps that was who they would all be visiting in Malifaux? She could see that all three were very nervous and her snap judgement was that they were all first timers. They clearly didn’t know what to expect when the train passed through. In truth, neither did she, it was different every time. She looked closer at the girl and it became clear that the little ‘un was not merely nervous about the journey, she had tear stained cheeks that suggested there was more to it than that. Mrs Barnaby pushed her glasses back up to their normal position, tilted her head slightly to ensure she was in sight of the child and gave her a broad grin. The girl took a moment, and looked to the two men travelling with her, as if for permission, seeing that they did nothing she turned back and returned the smile. Despite the smile that was spread between the girl’s pigtails Mrs Barnaby felt a sadness pass through her that almost broke her heart. Before having time to consider what this meant however, the lights above the passenger’s heads turned orange. They were all about to enter the breach. Her hands instinctively gripped both her handbag and her armrests and she dropped her head slightly. She wasn’t sure why, but this had become her usual position when crossing to the other side. She could feel the train start to shudder. This was ok she said to herself. This was normal. She could feel the energy start to pass through her in waves, she always forgot how disorientating this was. There was something different this time though. The waves weren’t just coming from the direction of the breach behind her, but there seemed to be stronger ones pushing her back against the seat. She opened her eyes. She could see the young girl, her face a mask of terror, her mouth open in a silent scream. Bags were falling from the overhead railings and the carriage itself was shaking, as if trying to tear itself apart. For the first time since her very first crossing eight years earlier, she was scared. The train pierced the breach. Mrs Barnaby just had time to register that the girl’s two companions had fallen into unconsciousness and slipped to the floor, when something fell from above her head and she joined them. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Her eyes were not open but she could feel herself slowly coming to her senses. The train was slowing. Surely this meant they were nearing Malifaux station. They must have made it through. Despite this, a pressure remained rooted on her chest. It was moving, slowly, but it was moving. She managed to open her eyes and saw the source of her discomfort. A chest had fallen and landed on her right arm and chest pinning her to the floor. It was the chest that was moving now but she could see no hands laid upon it. She tilted her head to the left to see into the aisle. It was there she stood. She was staring down at the chest with almost comical focus, her hands on either side of her face. Mrs Barnaby saw the girl smile at her as the train came to a full stop and the chest slipped to the floor relieving her arm of the pressure. Surely it was the movement of the train that had freed her so suddenly? In truth she was still dazed and confused. She managed to raise herself back to her seat as she heard the carriage doors open. Looking around she could see everyone starting to regain consciousness. The first of the girl’s companions was looking around the carriage in a panicked state before his eyes came to rest upon the girl standing in the middle of the aisle. “Stop that girl!” Mrs Barnaby turned to see the girl stare back at her companions before turning and running for the door. She didn’t know why she did it, but as the man ran after her Mrs Barnaby stuck out a leg and tripped him. She heard the man curse but ignored him and turned to look out of the window. She saw a flash of blue with two blonde pig-tails disappear amongst the crowd on the station platform, and she smiled to herself.

I like a lot of the ideas mentioned so far. I think a campaign using some generic charaters that gain experience a la Necromunda would be fantastic. I am slightly torn on the larger type games. I wouldn't want units as such, but the idea of larger models such as stagecoaches or large steampunk arcanist machines would tempt me hugely.

It had been twenty four hours since I had arrested the killers and I entered HQ with the feeling of a job well done. A few of the guys gave me the thumbs up as I made my way to my desk. My coffee tankard was there and had been washed by the cleaner. Today was going to be a good day. I turned my chair around to look at the blackboard. I could see the details of my case; the name Tommy Doyle had a white line of chalk through it. Then I noticed something else, above it was the name of Crikey O’Reilly, he had also been crossed off. “Hey Domingo, you seen Becker?” “Sure, he’s outside taking a smoke” came the reply. I headed on out and found Becker alone with one of his ‘I just got shit done’ cigars hanging out the side of his mouth. “I see you solved your case Becker. You’re not telling me you managed to catch or kill Seamus?” “Didn’t need to. I pinned it on your guys. Crikey tipped you off on them and then they must have got wind of it and killed him right? That’s what happened. The lawyers agree with that assessment in any event, and if they haven’t yet been executed it’ll be soon. A job well done all round I would say.” I started to feel sick again. -------------------------------------------------------- Any feedback on the ending will be much appreciated, it's always the bit I worry about the most given it needs to tie in with everything. Anyway, thanks to anyone who made it this far.

We stepped out of the coach right next to where Tommy Doyle’s body had been found. The place still smelt pretty bad, I guess it hadn’t been the body that had caused the stench. Graeme led me around the corner to the shops we had seen a few times on our travels and walked straight into the first one. A little bell above the door signalled our arrival but it wasn’t needed. We had entered what was clearly a working bakery with counters around the perimeter with the exception of course of the wall with the door we had just used. A young girl, maybe 15, was behind the counter on the left and was dusting what looked like Turkish delight in fine icing sugar. Straight ahead of us was a rotund man kneading dough and laying out sections of it onto big metal trays. “What can I get you gentlemen?” Graeme was in no rush to answer as he inspected the goods on offer but after a few seconds he looked up at the baker “Can I have two of your cherry tarts, an apple turnover, and.....I notice you sell Turkish delight, may I try some before I make a purchase?” “Sure, go on right ahead.” Graeme walked towards the girl, looked down on the counter then plucked two peices off the counter, threw one toward me, and popped the other in his mouth. Graeme seemed delighted by it. “I’ll definitely take some of that too sir, if you don’t mind. Maybe a quarter lb of assorted flavours. It is delicious.” “Best in Malifaux” replied the baker with what seemed like genuine pride. Graeme paid for his cakes and sweets and then we left. “So where we going Graeme? Why did you stop for cakes? I know she looked good but I think she’s too young, even for you.” I asked. “If you must know i’m in a relationship right now. My goods are off the market” that old dog, “anyway, as for where we’re going, we’re going in here” he answered as he walked through the door of the next shop. This wasn’t making any sense to me but it seemed like this whole case pretty much just had me following in his wake, why change now? The shop was laid out almost identically, instead of a bakery however, it was clear this place was a delicatessen, on the right were jars and jars of what looked like pickles and olives. Below the counter to the left was a display case with roasted hams and such. Above it, on hooks were a variety of different sausages. There was no one behind the counter and a strange grinding sound prevented anyone from hearing us enter. There was a door leading into the back and Graeme walked right up to the counter in front of it and tapped it hard three times on its veneer surface. A moment later the door swung open and a portly man walked through wiping his hands on a blood stained rag, behind him I could now see the origin of the sound as a young boy fed joints of meat through some sort of mulching machine, the meat coming out as fine looking sausages on the other side. Graeme addressed the new arrival “I’m looking for 3 lb of your finest sausages please sir. Was that pork sausages you were just putting through your machine in the back there? If so, that would be just what i’m after.” The man who I presumed to the owner of the deli went back through to the rear of the store. I looked down at Graeme, his eyebrows were raised as he looked back up at me. A couple of minutes later we left the deli with sausages added to our cakes and sweets. “So what’s going on Graeme, did you lie to me about solving this case and now you just want to take me on a picnic?” Before he could answer he had bolted through another door. By now I was getting pretty angry so I stormed after him in a foul mood. I slammed open the door and strode in to what turned out to be a shoe shop. There was one weedy looking be-spectacled man behind the counter. He looked nervous. At first I thought it must have been because of the way I stormed into his shop but then I looked over at Graeme who not only had a smug look on his face but also had sugar all over his sleeves. I walked straight over to the cobbler, grabbed his shirt collar and proclaimed that he had some explaining to do. He was a wus and broke instantly in a panicked confession. It turned out Tommy Doyle had been hitting this street as part of his little sideline in protection from pretty much the moment he had come through to this side of the breach. On the night of his death he had come by, completely drunk, looking for some extra scrip – to pay off his gambling debts I presumed. After smashing the windows of all the stores, he had stormed through all the stores looking for valuables finishing in the bakery where they had been working through the night to have everything ready for the morning. Rather than just go after the scrip however he had decided he also wanted a kiss from the baker’s assistant and had made a grab for her over the counter. Apparently this had been the last straw. The commotion had ensured all three store owners were there and they took their chance, knocking him out before feeding him into the sausage machine and dumping his body. “So why did you leave the pair of shoes with him?” I asked. “Manners. My mother always told me that whenever I took something I had to give something back.” Pretty stupid is what it was if you asked me. In any event, I had my killers. My conviction rate would be safe. I also had to admit that as a result of the circumstances it was likely these three chumps would just be sent to the mines rather than the hands of an executioner. That was something I was glad of these days.

Very nice story. It had a good sense of atmosphere without being overly descriptive. I look forward to more. Edit: I liked It before but now my ocd lets me be more constructive.

I like it. You should probably put it in the writing room section of the forum though.

Thanks for the feedback, it is much appreciated. Only one more part and a small epilogue to go and this one is done, hoping to have that finished later today. Then it's on to a solo missing persons case for Stryder.

I was in a tavern surrounded by beer swilling, big breasted wenches. The music was loud and everyone was pleased to see me. Some were very pleased to see me. Graeme was there too, he was playing on the organ in the corner below the stairs. I didn’t know he could play but nothing surprised me and I was too busy french-kissing Jessica Magnum to really care. She was beautiful and her hands were travelling all over me. It was clear I was gonna hit the jackpot. Despite that, something in my head was nagging me about her but it wouldn’t come to me, and in truth I was too busy to care. Tap Tap... I took a moment to look towards the dance floor, Collette Du Bois was there moving slowly and provocatively, her heels clipping the wooden floor as she traversed towards me. Tap Tap... I shouted over to the bar that I needed more beer. Larry, Curly and Moe were behind the bar, all of them wearing giant green top hats. That was odd. They all started pouring beers but it looked like the beer was red. It came to me as the liquid started spilling over the sides of the glasses that it was blood. Tap Tap Tap Tap... Soemthing wasn’t right, I looked back to Jessica. She had stopped moving completely, her head was at an angle that could not be natural. She slumped onto the table creating an almighty racket as glasses and bowls spilled all over the place. Bang Bang “Wake the hell up!” Graeme seemed to have stopped playing the organ to scream in my face. “Open the god’damn door.” This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. It was the realisation rather than the banging and screaming which eventually roused me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, shambled towards the door, and flung it open. “What the hell Graeme, what time do you call this? What’s so important it means you have to wake me on a Saturday?” He looked very pleased with himself. “Firstly, it’s nearly noon. Secondly, you might want to put your uniform on as we’re heading out. I’ve solved your case!”

I started out with 40k second edition before taking a break of a good few years. Got back into it and was eventually persuaded to give WFB a go too. Then Malifaux came along and those two games are finished for me now. Malifaux has led me into other wargames though as I ended up taking up Warmachine while converting some of it's players to Mali. It seemed only fair.

It was like entering another world. A very smoky world! The drawing back of the curtain revealed a cavernous, windowless room. Sheer white curtains on either side of the room appeared to lead into booths and the whole place appeared bathed in a dim red light. I could hear faint music but couldn’t place its source. “Can I help you Mr Stryder? ” came a voice to my right. It turned out that to the right of the entrance was a small wooden lectern, behind that, was a guy who made Graeme look tall. He was wearing a tuxedo. “I’m not here for leisure today, I’m here to see Carter” Graeme answered. “Well, that may be, but as a founder member of this establishment I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the rules with regards to the likes of your...companion.” He seemed to spit this last word out. “As a founder member of this establishment, i’m sure I don’t need to remind you that it is the likes of me who pays your wage. Tell me if he is here, which booth he is in and then stand aside.” Graeme stared at his challenger until his resolve waivered. “He is in VIP area sir. Please head on back.” “Thank you Thomas, I did rather hope that you would see sense.” Graeme turned and started walking straight down the middle of the room. I decided I was out of my comfort zone so I would do as I had been told so I followed closely. I could see just enough through the curtains to the right and left of me that the majority of the booths were occupied, with who or what though, I couldn’t tell. We reached the rear of the room and a set of curtains maybe twice the size of the ones hanging at the sides. There was no delay this time as Graeme stormed through the curtains. The occupants of the VIP area did not seem surprised by our sudden entry. I on the other hand was hugely surprised by what was before me. In truth I didn’t know where to look! Before me was a large padded booth, shaped kinda like a doughnut with a bite taken out of it, with a low table in the centre. There were four occupents to the room. On top of the table - in addition to a shisha pipe - was a dancing, blindfolded female dwarf who was wearing a black corset and was being prodded with a plastic sword by a male dwarf who was in the centre of a group of three reclined on the booth’s low level seating. On his left, another female dressed as some sort of slutty cow-girl character wearing chaps, a big hat and a very tight, low cut t-shirt . To his right, one who seemed to be wearing a long duster style trenchcoat and very little else. She was playing with matches so I could only assume she was the fan of the pipe. They all reminded me of someone or something but I couldn’t quite place it. The male, who seemed to be dressed in a blue-green suit and with a top hat several sizes too large, slowly looked up at us upon our entrance - as if having to drag his eyes away from what had, until now, been the centre of his attention. “Top o’ the mornin’ to yae both, what can I do for ya fellas?” he asked almost lightheartedly. Graeme took another step forward, “just after a chat Carter, alone if you don’t mind.” Carter seemed to take a moment to consider this then clapped his hands together, “Girls, leave us for a wee whiley will ya? Playtime can resume once I‘ve attended to business.” The females put on a look of dis-appointment before exiting through a door to the rear of the room. Graeme took a seat in the booth and motioned for me to follow before turning back to Carter, “can we have this conversation without the ridiculous Irish accent you put on?” Carter burst out laughing. “Hmmn, quite. Always the straight talker Stryder, that I can do. It is tiresome to pretend I’m some kind of deranged leprechaun after all. It doesn’t mean that you’re going to get what you’re after, assuming you’re after what I think you will be. I am a very loyal chap after all, and my position does come with a certain amount of fringe benefits which i’m sure you will have just noticed.” He then turned to me “I know you noticed, and liked what you saw didn’t you?. Which one took your fancy? You should come and work for me instead of this has been.” “Enough of that, get your own Goon” answered Graeme. I made a mental note to to get mad at him for that one when we were through here. “I’m only here for some information. Call it the satisfaction of curiosity. We have been hearing your boss has a dislike for a certain crime family around these parts and has been making his feelings known” he continued. “I assume by boss you mean my partner in crime? If, in theory, someone had killed one of his girls, then yes it would shorten the life expectancy of whoever had carried out such a heinous act, as well as that of everyone they knew.” Graeme leaned forward slightly “In theory then, would Tommy Doyle have had his life expectancy shortened?” Carter took a moment, and is if deciding whether to go along with this charade, he grabbed the mouthpiece of the Shisha and took a big draw, before blowing the smoke back in our direction. It smelt of apples. “What’s in this for me?” he asked. “Well, the continued use of this establishment for a start, I do know how you enjoy your little visits here. I can’t deny I would still owe you, although I think you would agree that I always pay my debts.” “You would still owe me Stryder, that’s a fact.” With that final statement Carter seemed to have made up his mind to assist. He removed his giant top hat, placed it on the seat next to him and leaned over it. To me it seemed like he could fall in and disappear, but with a flourish he removed a scroll of paper.and unfurled it. From the angle I was seated I could see his eyes scan down the scroll. “Tommy Doyle you say? He is still on my list. I take it we are too late to have fun with this individual?” He looked over to see Graeme nod. “That is a shame” he then leaned back over to search his hat, produced a feather quill and ink pot and put a line through what I could only assume to be Tommy’s name on his little list. “Thanks for your time, that’s all we needed to know” stated Graeme as he rose to leave. “Tut tut Stryder, you give away your favours too easily these days” replied Carter, before shouting for the return of his lady companions. We made our way back to the coach. I was feeling pretty dejected as I felt we had made our way all the way back to square one.

Well my original idea for part 4 hasn't worked out, although I hope to still see it at some point. So without further ado here are parts 4 and 5. -------------------------------------------------------- We had got word of his death not through its report to my unit, the case had gone to Becker, and at the time we didn’t have a name so there was no reason to connect them. It had been Graeme that gave me the heads up. I was starting to realise he had a lot more contacts on the streets of Malifaux than any of my Guild colleagues. This morning we were once again in his carriage heading towards a body. By chance we happened to be passing the site of the first one, I noticed that the row of shops that led onto the street it had been found, had workers replacing the broken glass from before. Five minutes later we pulled up outside a laundry building, hopped out and then made our way up the stairs. The victim lived in one of the rooms above. We reached the top floor and the place was an absolute mess, there was blood everywhere! A few science bods were milling around, Becker was staring at the body but turned when he heard us enter. “What are you doing here? And who’s your friend?” he asked. “This here is Graeme, he gave me the tip about the body, I think it might be related to the wasteland killing?” “Hi, the name is Stryder actually”. Graeme said, holding out his hand. Becker ignored him and went on. “Related case eh? Why do you think that?” “We might have been the last people to see him alive, he was at Graeme’s last night giving us information on the victim and his associates” I answered. I looked down at Graeme who seemed to nod slightly. “He mentioned someone that may be a suspect in our case”. “Well don’t you think you can muscle in here and steal a conviction from under my nose, this case is mine, you better give me the name and then stay out of my way” he answered somewhat louder than before. I didn’t care. After sensing an easy conviction he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. “Well Becker, if it was anyone else I would try and steal the credit, but I wouldn’t try to pull that on you. If you want to hold on to the case then you’ve got it.” “Good, so you going to tell me who he pointed the finger at?” “Sure thing, he said the Doyle crew, who my vic belonged to, had been having serious problems with this guy. That he had ended more than one of their top guys.” I kept him hanging. “Come on, I don’t have time for stories, give me the name so I can go and bash some heads.” He was clearly excited about the prospect of closing his case early this afternoon and earning himself a nice relaxed evening. It was time to let him know he had been played. “Seamus!” He seemed to stop and take a breath before muttering a curse under his breath. “Shit, how the hell am I supposed to get a conviction outta that? You must have heard him wrong!” “I’m just telling you what he said, it’s your case, do what you want with the information.” I’m pretty sure he could hear that I was smirking inside. “Get off my crime scene will ya’” he turned back to the body and waved at us dismissively. We wandered slowly back down the stairs and I had to admit I had a little chuckle to myself as we entered the coach picturing the knuckleheaded Becker trying to find a way round that one. Of course it didn’t really help progress things with my case, but it was still a small moment of pleasure, and they seemed to be getting rarer and rarer these days. “So, how do we find Seamus?” I asked Graeme. “Firstly, I’m not too sure we want to find him. He’s probably the most dangerous man in Malifaux. Certainly one of the craziest, and there is some pretty hefty competition for that title. No, you don’t find Seamus, Seamus finds you. Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk to him, sort of” He turned and gave me a smile. “What the hell are you talking about Graeme? How can we talk to him if we can’t find him? And why would we put ourselves at that much risk if he is as crazy as you say? Sometimes you make no sense at all.” He didn’t seem to hear me. He just pulled out his pocket watch, muttered something about it maybe being late enough, and shouted directions to his coachman. A frustratingly silent forty-five minute trip across town later, and we came to a halt. I looked out of the window but didn’t recognise the street. I looked at Graeme who seemed to be more nervous or anxious than I think I had ever seen him. He stepped onto his machine to exit the coach. I did likewise and started to look around to see if I could get my bearings. There weren’t many places in this hell-hole that I didn’t know but I was certain I had never stepped foot here before. There was plenty of activity right enough, with stalls lining the street serving up freshly cooked food that I have to say smelt delicious. Graeme looked at me seriously, “Just follow me, and do not say a word” he instructed. “You know me Graeme, silence is golden and all that.” He walked towards what looked like a run down canteen, I did as he asked and followed. We entered and it turned out to be just exactly what it looked like. A number of large dumb looking individuals turned to take a look at us before turning back to their plates and their conversations. The woman behind the server nodded silently to Graeme and he started forward again walking past the tables and down the side of the servery to a flight of stairs. I noticed the handrail was very low but we started climbing them nonetheless, at the top was another door we stepped through to be met by nothing but heavy red velvet curtains. Graeme stopped, turned to look at me, then took a deep breath and parted the curtains.

Hello and welcome. The first things you will need if you want to play are: The mini rulebook A fate deck or puppet deck. They both have great art. Some models. Model wise your crew needs to be run by A master or Henchman. Luckily, every master or hman is also released as a starter box with some of the minions they tend to work best with. So just take a look around and see What takes your fancy.

And Q'iq'el (apologies if spelt wrong).

As the title suggests. Possibility for those that like to play with more than one Lilitu but don't like to have more than one of the same sculpt. http://cipher-studios.com/2011/06/the-next-wave-of-hell-dorado-releaseshas-shipped/

Many thanks for the feedback. Of course it's nice that it was positive. :thumb: Most of the rest of the story is finished so I imagine more will be posted by the weekend. While I can't say whether Seamus himself will make an appearance there is certainly more to look forward to for fans of him and his minions. Although I may annoy fans of certain other masters. :vb_mad2:

I really like this story. Looking forward to more.

I think it misses one somewhat vital ingredient.

Just noticed that there's a duplicate out there.

It's from hordes. Minion faction.

I imagine that given how recent the GW rises have been, any influx of players probably has not been fully felt yet. Granted that is likely to benefit PP as much as Wyrd but still. Could be wrong as I don't know how this poll works as such.

Well, there may be a slight delay as it looks like there will be something a little different for Part 4. :whistle:

I hadn't thought of that but I can see it now you mention it. She's the only one I've bought but I agree that a lot of them are stunning.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with idea or anything. Just thought it might be worthwhile keeping it in one place. May also be easier to see just how much interest there was as the interested parties and ideas would not be spread out thinly on numerous threads.