Thechosenone

Experiment with a base. That's how I do it. Flock it with a little snow on top of what should logically be underneath the snow. Dead grass, dirt, whatever. Let this layer dry. Then add water effect with some fragments of whatever your ground is. I don't recommend adding paint/wash/ink to the water effect. Some water effects, in my opinion are either to thick to evenly disperse the stuff in (GW's) or to runny and the coloring just gets lost or pools up where the effect runs to (Woodland Scenics). Just my experience. Other people have used crushed up glass (be careful) and tiny shreds of clear plastic blisters (a pain to get cut right).

Feedback is what we live for. Sadly, feedback in the writers' forum is a rare thing. So make sure if you read something you comment on other peoples' stuff too. As much as you love it, we all love it. That's the second most important thing in my opinion, be willing to help out your fellow man.

Big thanks to you and anyone who contribute fiction to the fiction section. It's an interesting project to base a crew off your own family so kudos for that. It's certainly the first time I've heard that. As far as an honest critique I'm going to say that there are some mechanical and stylistic problems so far. Punctuation is really important because without it the reader hits speed bumps that take him out of the piece. For example, when I'm reading your work I have to mentally backtrack a step to realize that what I'm reading is a piece of dialog because it's missing the quotes. The second issue is the use of the onomatopoeia in the opening rather than descriptions of the action. I'm missing internal feelings for the characters as well as scene description. I'd suggest reading an action sequence from something you've read that you really enjoyed and looking to see how the author paces the scene and how they paint the description of the events there in. Then review your work and try to breath more life into the scene. I'm no expert, all i can say is what I like and I like deep description and to see a story told through the eyes of the characters there. But you've tackled the hardest part of writing which is actually writing something.

“Pigs sir. Just pigs.” David Nestor pulls the curtains aside to see what the source of the noise is. The Minister’s private study is a place of quiet where only Nestor is usually allowed and only for the purpose of recording his employer’s thoughts to paper or to set up Cahill’s Phonograph. His opinion is rarely voiced here. Nestor watches the pigs scamper through the open courtyard of the research facility rooting about under the midnight sky. He can see his own refection in the glass too, a meek man with typical Malifaux features, empty eyes and pale flesh. He’s only been here for seven months but already he can see the way this world takes its toll. He adjusts his glasses returns back to his employer and the slab like oaken desk he sits at. “Pigs?” Cahill furrows his brow. “Isn’t that something… what’s his name… the idiot with the Alligator…” “Mr. McTavish sir.” Nestor offers passively. “Yes. McTavish. Isn’t that something he should be dealing with?” Cahill stares into his papers never looking at David. Nestor admired the old buzzard when he first came here. He looked tall, noble and intelligent. He was everything that Nestor wanted to be. But seven months is a very long time in Malifaux. Peoples’ true selves are revealed very quickly in this ugly world. David sees Cahill’s true nature every time he watches the man conduct a surgery on the Gamin. Hunched over the tiny body, face almost in their guts, blood slicking his scrubs and face as he plucks and prods. David could never shake the thought that first came to him weeks ago, probably because it fits so well and because awful truths are hard to shake… Buzzard. That Minister Cahill looks exactly like an old buzzard feasting on death. “It’s late sir. He’s probably sleeping.” Cahill sets down his pencil and rubs at his temples; agitated by the distant sound of squealing hogs. “Wake. Him.Up. David. It’s his job. My job is to weaponize the Bog Gamin for use against the terrorists and insurrectionists that plague our city and threaten our way of life. It’s my job to navigate the tiny veins and brittle physiology of these hideous things and it’s my job to appease the will of the Pinnacle! Mr. Mctavish’s job is to deal with the livestock. Wake. Him.Up.” Nestor nods. “Of course sir. Right away.” He feels a thankful rush of relief to be out of the office and away from Cahill even if it is just for the few moments it takes to navigate the halls of the compound and reach McTavish’s cabin in the courtyard. Nestor collects his thoughts and takes a precious few moments to regret his assignment. The assistant mutters to himself as he walks down the stairwell of the compound and to the courtyard. Every violent hate that comes to mind leaves his lips as a hushed whisper. It feels good to vocalize a dozen different demises for Cahill. He imagines pushing him down the stairs and hearing the sweet snap of bones as he tumbles down. His illusionary murders stutter and fade as he’s interrupted by a noise from one of the halls. He stops on the stairs and listens and again the noise comes. It’s a thumping of some kind and it originates from just outside the stairwell. Nestor leaves the winding railing and opens the door to this floor of the compound, having no idea what the noise could be. He considers some late night carpentry or a shutter left swinging in the night breeze. The door opens to the candle lit hall where Nestor expects to see a maintenance worker or errant shutter. Instead his eyes wander down to the source of the noise. A shredded corpse laying heavy on the floor, ragged with wounds and pooling out blood onto the wooden floor and carpet. Nestor’s focus aims at the face but the identity is hidden behind a red veil and ruined flesh. A top the corpses back is a bog gamin with a kitchen knife in its hand. The little creature repeatedly hammers the weapon through the body till it thumps against the floor. His mouth drops as another of the test subjects scampers up and starts yanking at the man’s boots and then clumsily starts lacing them up on his own ugly feet. The door to one of the personal quarters opens and another of the test subjects enters the hallway, this one slicked in gore and wearing a blood soaked lab coat far too big for its frame. This one is older than the other two in the hall and it stares back at him through broken spectacles… Doctor Tate’s spectacles. The other staffers named some of these creatures and he remembers this one too had a nick name but right now it couldn't be further from his mind. Nestor’s eyes creep over to the creature’s hand and the scalpel it’s holding. He swallows hard as he meets the gamin’s gaze and sees something unexpected there. Intelligence. “Oh god! Help!” His paralyzing fear is overtaken by survival instinct. Bernard snarls as Cahill’s assistant vanishes back into the stairwell. He points his scalpel at one of the gremlins and grumbles out a single broken word. “Revenge…” Nestor reaches the warm moist night outside the compound startling the quiet with his scream. “Help! Mr. Mctavish! Help! The Bog Gamin are out of control! Help please!” He stumbles out the compound calling for anyone. The moon creeping through the clouds is the only light that leads him. “Mr. Mctavish!” He’s about to scream again when his own murmurings are silenced by another louder call. He turns to the compound and looks up toward the moon and the balcony of the facility. Perched there are two of the gamin, one holding a long metal pitch fork and wearing a wide brimmed hat freshly painted with human blood. The other holds a bucket in one hand and with the other it reaches dumbly into container to pull out a heaping of gristly filth that it shoves into its mouth and chews slowly. “Mr…. McTavish… where are you?” The bucket bearer snarls and throws a handful of the offal at Nestor. It splatters across his chest and drips warmly. He looks down, his hands smearing over what he realizes is blood, bile and random elements from the commissary. The other gamin taps his pitch fork on the balcony and screeches, its call so loud that it hurts Nestor’s ears. “Mr Mctavish! Where are you!” He tries feebly again. It’s much more a whimper now than a demand. And then he hears the familiar noise again, the squeal. Nestor turns quickly to see pigs dragging in the night air with powerful snorts. They emerge from all directions and move in on him slowly. The way they stare, the way they stalk… Nestor doesn’t see the actions of hog intelligence. He sees the predatory approach of wolves. “Please… someone!” He begs. The Gremlins above watch the circle of hogs close in around their meal. He’s taken beneath a thrashing blanket of ruddy fat flesh and ripping tusks. The one with the pitch fork smiles while his companion continues to shovel blood gruel into his mouth.

If nothing else, it sounds like excitement. Stay sane sir.

Like this? http://www.wyrd-games.net/showthread.php?28242-Shield-this-craft-from-one-and-all-Reflect-deflect-depose-and-fall!-A-Collodi-Plog/page3

Still nothing else yet sir?

The Hoffman side assembled (lots of alts. Hoffman is a different model and so is coppelius. This bit of fiction explains my choices. http://www.wyrd-games.net/showthread.php?28466-Live-for-the-Trade-Die-for-the-Trade-Lord-Architect-Carl-Hoffmann)

If something prevents you from being attacked... what is it preventing? Strikes? Things that only cause wounds? that cause damage? What's an attack?

Help gentlemen and ladies. Do the extra AP earned from Melee Mastery cover charges or only regular strikes? What can these specific AP be used for?

Good looking stuff and I like your Lady Justice. My only suggestion to you would be to look into some high lighting and dry brushing for textured surfaces like the hair.

So, um... yeah. CURSES! (shakes fist at the heavens) Seriously i didn't notice that rule about the Electrical Creations till just now. Thanks And the rest of the Ramos Crew is done. I speed painted my way through it and finished it all from 5pm to 10:30pm. Just wanted it done. Not my finest work but eh. Group Shots

At risk of sounding demanding toward RMs and their higher ups... can someone please completely lay out in a more than one or two word cryptic post how this works? It would really help out the player base rather than us coming up with examples that get answered without any substance to it. I'm not meaning to be rude or anything but clearly there are people in this thread who don't see the difference between what Ramos can do and what Loco can do and why its set up that way. please, teach rather than tell, so we understand the premise and can maybe save ourselves from asking this question a dozen different ways.

Some alternate pics too

So here's some more and a completed group shot. Another Tot Lillith Group Shot And that's a crew in about a week. Some rushed, some took a lot of time but in all i'm happy enough with them all. Of course i'm open to suggestions as far as improvements criticism.

Added one more. Just something done super quick and mostly by washing.

Well, realistic in the sense that they are sculpting figures that hold true to human proportions or proportions humans can achieve. The alternative would be looking at figures from Reaper or Freebooter who sometimes sculpt these long almost feline looking faces and stubby bodies. Anyway, more things are done. Waldgeists Mature Nephilim

So next I'm working on Hoffmann and Ramos. Since the two can share many of the same models I'll lump them into the same paint log. Obligatory Visionaries quote/title included for completeness sake. So here's a few of the done things. Electrical Creations Soul Stone Miner ---------- Post added at 09:13 PM ---------- Previous post was at 08:44 PM ---------- Mobile Toolkit

It's the first mini from KD that I've personally bought though my gaming crew owns a few. They have their positives and negatives On negatives: SO FRAGILE! at least with the female minis. Everything is incredibly thin and small. The scale is ever so slightly bigger than Malifaux as well. On the positives: The art is amazing. The packaging they come in is unique and the female models are the best most realistic and sexiest looking sculpts out there. Hands down.

Here's what I'm working on next: (My Mature Nephilium) (Waldgeists) (My Lillith)

Added some updates for those that follow.

Some done things Cherub Doppelganger Tots and a young Nephilim Coppelius

(So this is the first part in my next series of pieces. This one about my Lillith Crew. The prequel piece can been seen here: http://www.wyrd-games.net/showthread.php?28642-Let-the-Games-Begin-V-Lost-in-the-Dark As always, my take on the characters and setting of Malifaux is different from the source material. Sometimes my takes are darker, sometimes light hearted. Lillith is a more fun divergence from the nihilistic stuff of the Guild. Read, enjoy and please comment. More will follow. Also, this first piece is developed from a battle report) *Lilith Cherub Doppelganger Mature Nephilim Two terror tots Coppelius Waldergeist Schemes and Strategies Turf War Kidnap Stake a Claim (Announced) *Marcus Myranda Jackelop Convict gunslinger Mctavish Three slurids Schemes and Strategies Power Ritual Sabotage (Not Announced) Claim Jump Pre-Game Pebbles skip over the street surface like hot oil in a pan. The methodic tremor that excites debris along Dodger’s Bend comes from the Construct Quarry. Under the bruise colored sky the quarry supplies a pulse to the city. Its part power station, part factory and part hatchery. The tallest silos reach high over most of the city. They store massive pistons that climb their impossible height before dropping with apocalyptic force to shatter stone or flatted metal. Each hammer blow sends a quiver through the nearby districts forming hard unnatural heartbeat to the city. 　 The heart beats strongest here in Iron Twist. 　 Perfect green eyes reflect the ruin that has come to Dodger’s Bend. Those eyes can see clearly the destruction wrought by the accident that took the life of this side street. Fissures crisscross the cobblestone leaving to a depthless dark beneath Malifaux. The buildings are tiny stubs; broken fingers reaching through a stone strewn grave for a final grasp at life. 　 　 But the eyes see more than just the ruin, they see the cause of it too. They can see the god hammer of one of the pistols falter and strike off point. No dampening devices to mitigate the errant strike and so the tremor it birthed trampled this street and many others. Dodger’s Bend was lucky compared to the others her eyes have seen. 　 Miter Plaza vanished into a sinkhole. No warning, no escape, no survivors. Just a loud crack, a sudden drop, some brief screams and then a hole. No more Miter Plaza. 　 A hand runs over cold rain slicked copper feeling its many patterns, etchings and urban injuries. It’s long and twisted, hard and immune to decay. It just collects ugliness rather than rot away. 　 "What is this?" The voice, sharp, inquisitive and innocently demanding. The speaker is not of the city. It’s apparent at first glance. Her flesh has the color of life and it’s free of the malaise and imperfections that seep into the common citizen. Her clothing is different as well. Short and sheer, sylvan, and colorful, there’s too much brightness and warmth for it to be of the city. She lets the rain soak her raven hair and trickle over her body. 　 She allows it to. 　 Her green eyes turn from the object to the monster standing beside her. 　 A well-dressed nightmare in long tailed red coat and noble fineries. Its limbs sickeningly long and ending in perverse little digits that roll a pair of plucked eyes in the gray skinned palm of its hand. Looping coils of tentacle twist around a hidden mouth while the witch fire in its eye sockets stare at the savory organs. The creature’s voice doesn’t fit the appearance. It’s cultured, dignified and soft. 　 "A lamp post Precious One. They bring light to the dark. Humans have a very healthy respect for the dark." 　 Precious One he calls her. Sycophantic Coppelius, the eternal book kiss. He worships what he fears. And fears only that which he cannot devour. Lilith, his Precious One, is far from consumable. She’s an old thing. Older than most of the powers active in Malifaux. The previous denizens of this world were quick to call her Goddess and the definition isn’t entirely inaccurate. Lilith was the voice of the land, the soul, the daughter of Malifaux. The beings too bloated with mystery and obscene cosmic intellect used her as their mouth in the rare circumstances where they needed or cared to interact with the living. 　 Coppelius chooses his side wisely and that side is every alliance that has the potential to benefit him. He serves Lillith as he serves The Boy… until something better comes along. 　 "Silly." She assesses. Her eyes turn from the broken street lamp and to a debris shattered store front. "And this? What’s a deli" 　 The eyes in his palm roll a bit more erratically. "Food for the humans my Goddess. Cold little slices of flesh nestled between warm bread." 　 "Sounds lovely." 　 "The sauces, smears and dressings are a far cry from the fear, desperation and screams I enjoy with my entrees but that aside I do enjoy a sandwich, as they call it. Corned Beef is particularly enjoyable and I give credit to the unenjoyable species of Man to have…" 　 She interrupts his monologue with pointing and another question spoken with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. 　 Coppelius swallows one of the eyes while his tentacles twitch with irritation. "That’s an Engraver’s shop. They etch words into metal. If you look back at the lamp post you’d clearly see that the maker has put…" 　 "And this?" She moves on. Coppelius sinister fingers pluck at the last remaining eye in his hand and squeeze the fluids out in a swift wet pop. 　 "Brothel. Pleasures of the flesh and…" He starts but she looks away, a pang something regretful and sad fills her face and her eyes. He’s an expect when it comes to eyes and pain. 　 "None of this…" She cuts him off again her words spoken with barely enough breath to say them. "was here. This is all so… empty? It’s ugly Coppelius. All of this is ugly. When I ruled it was so full of life. Good, healthy vibrant life. And there were trees and rivers and…" 　 "Slaves and temples and people who knew to kneel before us." 　 "Right. That too." She agrees. "But I miss the trees even more than I miss the temples." 　 "Really?" Coppelius sneers at her. "Really." She says. 　 "It’s not all so bad my most divine beauty. You know what you’d like? You’d like shoe stores. We should go to Encarmine Avenue in Crowcoil. I can eat the eyes out of a shop keep while I explain to you the wonder of luxury shoes and then on to Malifaux’s high fashion. Though something tells me you’re going to prefer the styling of Silken Row more, my temptress." 　 "Fine fine. But first I want to claim this slum. I want take some of this back from the humans who wrecked it." 　 "Really. This?" He gestures with his serpentine limbs and spidery fingers. 　 "It’s gross Coppelius. We need to do something about it." She says while one of her nails scratches at the corrosion on a metal shutter. She’s never seen tarnish before. There was very little metal when she ruled and none of it covered in this strange affliction. Things were different. Better. 　 Another voice echoes from across Dodger’s Bend. A booming challenge spoken by a man with primal fire in his heart, the speaker is fit and wrapped in bestial hides and sagely robes. He points a long staff toward Lillith, his face a cauldron of rage. 　 "Demon!" He screams. 　 "Is he talking to me?" She points innocently at herself 　 "I honestly don’t know." Coppelius answers. 　 "You should have stayed entombed beneath the earth! I won’t let you destroy the balance between…." 　 "Oh he’s definitely talking to you." Coppelius nods while the human continues on with his proclamation. 　 "Seriously? Demon? Are all humans like this?" She stares at the man very confused. 　 "No. No they mostly just run and scream. But this is exactly how you identify the ones that must be killed. They talk a lot." He says, rubbing his hands together eagerly. 　 "I’m not really in the mood to kill things. If we leave he’ll probably just stand there screaming more." And he continues his ranting and roaring. Condemnations and accusations of her being a harbinger of doom are levied freely as bold humans walk up beside him. Lillith is hardly listening to the content. Lillith’s eyes widen at one particular bit that catches her attention. “wh… demon whore queen?” She can’t help but laugh now as she stumbles over his insane litany. “Really?” “Really” Coppelius confirms. She purses her lips and stares at the man. Her teeth nibble at the inside of her cheek. A smile creeps over her revealing two sharp vampiric canines. “You know something Coppelius, I think I’m hungry. Let’s eat first. Then you can show me all about dressed and shoes.” Coppelius reaches into his coat and hands her a long gnarled old scepter made of ancient wood and topped with a glowing amber stone. Her favored weapon. His tentacles drip with anticipation as he follows her. “Yes your beneficences. Let’s snack.” Turn One and Two As Lillith walks through the rain she points toward some of the nearby shadows and broken places passively. “Come on, come on.” Grub like little beasts crawl from the refuse and dart across the debris field hungry for blood and to please their master with fresh kills. A nude blank beast, lanky and alien, walks awkwardly from the darkness of the brothel dragging with it a corpse that’s been twisted by heavy stone and crashing metal. The creature looks down upon the once living wreckage with blank eyes. Its skin rips and warps, its bone change. The thing becomes formless for a moment before stealing the shape of the dead woman. The Doppelganger joins Lilith, matching her stride and hungry smile. A coil of vines and brush slither out from the engraver’s shop, their mess tangles together forming a bounding hideous beast of branch, leaf and hate destiny for the enemy line. The rooftop of the collapsed pub nearby rattles. A shape in the dark falls from the sky landing hard on the skeleton supports there. A beast, bat like and muscled. It spits sinister spite into the night while its red eyes fixate on anything with a pulse… anything that can feed its hunger. Coppelius notes one of the raging wizard’s crew. A woman loading her pistols and watching the battlefield take shape. Her eyes, they look delicious. Before he can mark her as his next meal he spies another pair of meat sacks bearing twin delicacies for him. Slurids with their huge eyes begging to be sucked up and into his mouth. “I want them all! Oh my sweet little beasties I want all those pretty little eyes!” Lillith cocks her head and stares at the furious wizard. She watches him summon animal spirits like the necromancer shamans of old and cast the pair of night spirits toward the wrecked pub. She reaches out with her hand and with her soul. She touches Malifaux like no other can, caressing it, shaping it and turning it to meet her desires. And with her urgings reality flips in on itself. One of the spirits vanishes from his vector and materializes beside Coppelius. And her fully grown Nephilim now crouches beside the other spirit. The Nephilim brutalizes the spirit despite its etheric form. Coppelius sends shivers through the spirit beside him that paralyze the entity and with a fury of hooked fingers he rips the essence right from the thing spilling its nothingness across the debris field. “I will bind you! I will break your soul and cast back the fragments into…” The wizard continues his diatribe “O…k…?” Lillith stares at the man almost speechless. She looks back to Coppelius who’s busy watching the etheressences leak out of the dying spirit. “Is this human even going to taste good? He seems… spoiled?” “Oh no no my queen. Eat and drink without fear. For humans, madness is contained only in the mind not the soul nor the blood. He’ll taste fine. Promise.” “mkay.” She trusts Coppelius’ experience with humans. She then calls to her Nephilim, snapping and pointing. “Over there my little baby, eat eat eat.” And with her encouragement the creature takes to the sky and flattens the gun slinger into a bloody paste that it eagerly laps up. The little grub things slithering toward it to share in the kill. “Good job my baby, very goo… Ohh my gods!” Lillith contains a scream. Fluttering feathered wings carry down a mewling mumbling purple baby with tiny red bow and glimmering bale fire eyes. It mutters and grumbles a strange language while firing one of its arrows across Dodger’s Bend. Where it strikes a small grove of trees sprouts. Lillith just watches the ugly thing reposition itself and start firing arrows at the Slurrid. The whole display is hideously attention grabbing. “are… are those even words….” She whispers to the unsightly little totemic servant. It has no intelligible answer. Just more bitter groaning and ugly speech. “Seriously little purple baby… what in all the hells are you?” More arrows, more mumbles. Turn Three and Four One of the Slurrids slaps the Cherub across the alleyway, the tiny being scratched and roughed up by the jagged street. Lillith sighs passionlessly “Oh no… little purple baby are you ok.” She fakes concern for the strange thing then moves to the Slurrid attacker and politely nods. “Hello monster. I’m not sure if you’ve given this any thought or not but you really should be working with me. I have a very long history of supporting the rights and interest of monster kind. In fact, when I was running things here it was a very good time to be… um… whatever you are. Fish… snake… thing? Whatever? Point is, let’s work this thing out?” It salivates and howls. “So… are you like negotiating or….” It salivates and howls. “Um, because I’m kind of a big a big deal when it comes to Malifaux? I mean, we’re talking like a constant feeding frenzy for you.” It salivates and howls. “Is that like a language? I not even sure if you’re speaking right now?” The Slurrid swing its claw at her but she leans out of the way and swats at the limb with her scepter. The creature’s flesh trembles and then melts apart into a dripping greenish soup that spreads to the main body. The beast becomes a puddle of bubbling awful. “Gods…” She rolls her eyes and leaves the sewage entrance where the other slurrids are being terrorized by Coppelius and his long fingers. The Mature Nephilim takes shot after shot from the wizard’s Bayou Guide before breaking him in half with its powerful limbs. The Wizard snarls and leaps into the air. Lillith can feel a primal essence fill the wizard, the kind of unbridled potency that her own kind thrive on. She watches eagerly as he takes to the beast, cracking its skull open with his club and without slowing he swings wildly and batters her Waldgheist back into twigs and bramble. She’s away of something else as well. The wizard and his servants are attempting some kind of ritual, a warding or banishing of some kind and the last of the Slurrids finishes the final element before succumbing to the dryness of the streets. She can feel the repulsive nature of the spell hit her like a wave of nausea. “Oh… gross.” She takes a moment to hold back a bloody vomit, excusing herself, after an unsightly and silent belch. “Creature! You’re next!” The wizard screams at her and then kicks the remains of her forest spirit out of the way. He prepares to take the fight to her but a burst of thorn and brush block his path. Another arrow strikes the pavement and the forest sprouts a new growth while the other odd grove withers. “Yea…” Lillith still fights back sickness and still fails to muster any glee. “Purple baby, you’re alive. That’s so great.” It flaps elsewhere firing arrows at anything that moves. Turn Five and Six One of the grubs, gorged on blood, stiffens and curls. Its back splits open and a new beast slithers from the husk of the old. Slicked in viscera and gristle, the new beast is lithe and sinuous and still just as hungry as before. The young Nephilim screeches a birthing cry and looks for purpose. Its bestial eyes lock with Lillith, who’s swatting and shoving at the flying purple baby that flaps around her. She takes a moment to point at the new creature and direct it toward the angry wizard and his waifish female companion. “Don’t touch me with those little hands!” She pushes the totem away. “What ARE you?” It mumbles more and gums out a few mysterious words from its blackish mouth. She ignores the creature and takes a moment to wonder what the relationship is between the wizard and the waif while the wizard bludgeons the young Nephilim with his walking staff. Coppelius returns from the dark of the sewers, his jacket steeped in filth and blood. Fragments of eyes coat his tentacles and finger tips. “Beneficence, he keeps clubbing our entourage. Rude. Very Rude.” The violent wizard prepares to charge Lillith but a small arrow strikes the group causing another grove to erupt through the street debris and halts his attack. Lillith revels in his frustration. She smiles as he rages against the tangle of vines. Her doppelganger meets her, matching her mistresses’ stride perfectly. Her body ripples and reforms to become a perfect clone of Lillith. Both walk into the bramble and both reap their share of blood. The doppelganger’s false weapon plunges into the gut of the waif after the wizard uses her to protect himself. “This world lives! This world will not suffer your scourge! I promise it!” The wizard swings his cudgel and takes Lillith hard in the side of her head spilling the woman’s toxic blood. It sizzles on the street and burns at Marcus’ flesh. He swings again, ignoring the burning pain. “Die!” But his weapon never finds its mark. She slaps the stick from his hands and grabs him by the throat. Her strength, something he wasn’t prepared for, lifts him from his position and pulls him face to face with her. His eyes lock with hers. The drip of poisonous blood running from her head drips down her face and singes his bare skin. She searches within his eyes for the source of that primal power. The intensity she sees there is beyond tempting. Her lips part and her tongue runs over his cheek taking in his taste. Wild and hot. Her teeth scratch over his skin briefly before her jaws open and her fangs plunge into his neck drinking the fiery blood that spills out. She moans as the fluid runs down her throat warming her from the inside. She can feel him filling her body with every droplet that falls from his throat. The wizard is finally quiet. She lets his still body slump up against the trees while her tongue licks at the mess around her lips. “Yummy” She answers Coppelius’ unasked question while tasting the last of Marcus that lingers on her finger tips. “Talk to me about dresses and shoes now.” Coppelius finger make a hook like gesture that lift the wizard off the forest floor and to the nightmare’s level. His long talon traces over the shaman’s closed eyes. “In a moment my goddess. In a moment.” Lillith Turf War- 4 points Stake a Claim- 2 points Kidnap- 2 points Marcus Claim Jump- 0 Power Ritual- 2 Sabotage-0

Hey everyone, just a thought and I don't know if its come up but I was thinking about it? Which masters really need the soul stones and who can live without them? Assuming a game size of 35 to 40 stones (What I play in my meta) who needs them? From my experience Collodi- needs few over all. I get by with about 4 to 5 Lucius- I take his max when he's leading a crew to get off those spells if I'm short on cards Hamelin- I start with few, open by draining souls on rats or stolen and go hulking with him. Lady J- I use few stones, taking 3 to 4 stones. Perdita- Few again, just 3 to 4. Sonnia- I run a lot of stones with her, the maximum if I can, though I heard a recent argument that may make me reconsider her stone usage. Dreamer- I take a lot. Which is easy to do with him. I need those stones to blitz with Chompy Somer- Needs very few. I don't feel too bad off with 2 to 4 stones. Would love to see some lists and advice on how many stones you feel you need for a given master.