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SPOILERS!SPOILERS!SPOILERS! From the diary of Dr. John H Watson. I came to Kamakura in my twilight years. Ostensibly to serve the British military once again, however, if my erstwhile companion were still alive he would have claimed I came to Kamakura to die. He would probably have been correct. He often was. Following the dreadful events in London I wound up in Japan, seconded to a military hospital, treating the poor devils wounded in this dreadful conflict. It was here that I first met Abel Negasi, a sailor in the Abyssinian navy. During our first encounter I, rather erroneously, took the man for a member of staff, on account of his surgical limb replacement, and blathered on at him for a full five minutes regarding the rather poor state of the facilities. It was only when he levelled a supremely cold stare at me and deadpanned, “So tell a doctor, doctor,” that I realised my error. Following our rather dreadful introduction, and my hasty, but heartfelt, apologies we became acquainted. Not really friends, per se, but certainly not strangers. I inquired after the nature of his augmentations and was dismayed to learn of his horrific battle with a host of piscine terrors. I surmised that these pelagic nightmares were the self-same monstrosities responsible for the attacks on London and elsewhere around the globe. During the following days we spoke often. I regaled him with tales of my time in London and the adventures I often found myself embroiled in. I flatter myself when I say I believe Abel to have been quietly impressed with my past. Although I was not his physician, Abel often spoke to me about his convalescence. In particular he mentioned his concerns regarding his recent blood transfusion and the peculiar dreams he had experienced ever since. I examined him and found him hale and hearty. I, therefore, concluded Abel must be suffering from a spiritual malady. Something quite outside my purview. My dearly departed wife was often of the opinion that matters of the soul were best dealt with in surroundings more conducive to meditation and reflection than a doctor’s surgery and so I suggested to Abel he visit one of the local temples, perhaps converse with a priest. Upon discovering that my new companion spoke no Japanese, I resolved to accompany him and act as translator. The Temple we selected was not far from the hospital and a brisk walk in the morning sun seemed to lift a little of the malaise that had settled on my companion. We arrived in short order and took a moment to savour the sight that greeted us. The temple itself was a simple affair, lacking many of the accruements one might expect. However, any deficiency of decoration was more than made up for by the presence of the great obsidian statue of the Buddha. It towered over us, a monument to the craftsmanship of its sculptor and the power of a people’s faith. I observed several other people entering the temple via a large red Tori arch and, along with Abel, followed suit. Within the temple proper we were greeted by a slight Japanese fellow dressed in the simple shift of a monk. As we nodded our own greetings I saw that a number of our fellow visitors were all dressed in similar fashion, although each of these fellows also carried a simple satchel and brightly painted mask. I inquired with the monk, whose name I learned was Sengai, about the need for ceremonial clothing. He politely informed me that no such stipulations were necessary and offered to bless myself and Abel. We acquiesced and moved further inside the temple. I left Abel for a while, certain that my constant presence was doing little to aid in his recovery, and made my away around the Buddha statue. I was struck by the large milky emerald set in the statue’s forehead like a third eye and resolved to inquire about it before we left. I noticed that the visitors who arrived ahead of us had now donned their masks and were beginning some type of ceremony. Perhaps the years of working alongside one the greatest investigative minds ever to grace the Earth had rubbed off on me, but something about the actions of these masked men and women seemed oddly wrong to me. It seems bizarre now, I am no scholar of the religious practices of Buddhism but I could see they were not praying. Instead, each of them was manipulating something concealed within the satchels they carried, and their body language spoke not of reverence or piety, but preparation and perhaps even malice. I found Abel where I had left him and confessed my misgivings to him. To my surprise he did not treat me like a senile old man desperate for a last hurrah of action before shuffling off this mortal coil. He told me that he had recently read of a queer religious sect responsible for acts of vandalism and violence directed at various temples around Kamakura. Could it be we were in the midst of such an act of malfeasance? Hurrying back to Sengai I told him of my suspicions and bade him fetch the authorities. The poor man went quite pale with the fright and begged me to stop the miscreants. I swore to him as member of the King’s Empire, and as a gentleman, that I would allow no harm to befall his temple. At that, he brightened, and hurried away. During my time with Sengai, Abel had kept watch on these sinister criminals. In my absence they had begun an odd monosyllabic chant in a language neither one of us understood. Unsure of how to proceed I cast my mind back and tried to think how my dear friend and literary muse would approach the situation. It was then I hit upon a plan. Bidding Abel to stand watch over me I approach the chanting group, attempting to look like tourist. I intended to ‘accidentally’ drop my doctor’s bag and stumble into the nearest criminal, hopefully dislodging their grip on one of the satchels and interrupting their ritual. I may have acted a little too zealously, as my stumble became a hard shove and the woman I barged into was sent flying, the contents of her bag spilling onto the ground for all to see. I saw, to my horror, that it was a bomb. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. I was back in Afghanistan, my leg bleeding like a stuck pig, staring death in the face. A bomb, right in front of me and primed to go off any second. It seemed that Holmes’ assessment of my purpose here in Kamakura was right after all. “Mary,” I whispered. The sounds of shouting and stamping feet shook me from my reverie in a most uncomfortable manner. The masked men and women were on their feet now and looked for all the world to be quite angry with me. The man to my left, a brute of man easily three inches taller than me and least half again as heavy, threw some sort of coarse powder at my face. As any aficionados of my literary work will attest, I am no stranger to violence. I twisted away, the powder cascading harmlessly off my shoulder. Still the man came on. He had produced a knife from somewhere on his person and proceeded to thrust it at me. My years as a dance partner to the Marquis of Queensbury may be long behind me but I was still celeritous enough to leap away. Clearly outmatched by my assailant I continued to back up. I produced my trusty B&D Pocket Revolver and shot him. Some of you reading this may be shocked at my willingness to shoot a man in cold blood, but I would rather bear the scars on my soul for my actions than allow another life to be lost through the lack thereof. Sadly, my aim had not fared as well as my reflexes in the long years of my life and my shot only winged the devil. Abel, howling like a demon, came roaring past me and threw himself into the fray. Where I was hopelessly outclassed in the arts of Pugilism, he was anything but. He laid about him with that pneumatic arm of his, making short, if gruesome, work of one of them. From somewhere behind me came resounding whoosh and out of nowhere a ball of fire, bright as the morning sun, flashed past me. It engulfed one of the masked men, setting his brown robes alight. A second, as shocking as the first, followed almost immediately after and consumed the crazed man in a hellish inferno. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a rough looking Chinese itinerant conjuring yet more flame from the aether. I have seen magic before, but never had I beheld it wielded so effortlessly, or with such devastating results. There was, of course no time to admire this man’s skill, or to wonder he had come from. The woman I had previously shoved aside in my bungling attempts at subterfuge came sprinting at me, fury and hate burning in her gaze. Once again my military training prevailed and the woman’s attempts to pierce my flesh with her knife failed. Dodging another swipe, I took discretion over valour and stumbled away from my attacker, I turned and fired on the run. My erratic flight spoiled my aim and for a second time my bullet merely grazed its target. Across the courtyard Abel was in fine form. He levelled another of the madmen with straight right before spinning quite expertly on his back foot and knocking a second unconscious with a furious back hand. In my panicked stumbling I had ended up quite close to the Chinese sorcerer and watched, fascinated as he hurled two more fireballs into the midst of our foes, immolating another victim. With a most profound sense of creeping dread I realised that my two comrades did not know about the bomb. I levelled my pistol at the wounded woman and fired again. This time my shot found its mark and she dropped like a stone. I began to run towards the discarded satchel. “Bomb!” I cried out, “They have a bomb!” Abel turned to look quizzically at me and took a face full of the sand like powder these criminals seemed so fond of. His flustered swings kept his opponents at bay but lacked any accuracy. The Chinese sorcerer jolted into action, sprinting forwards toward one of the dropped satchels. Horrified, I saw that each of the six bags contained a bomb. Frantically I ran to the closest of explosives and looked it over. My time in the military had never really covered bomb disposal so I grabbed a handful of wires and prayed there were no booby traps or failsafes. To my joyous surprise, the wires came away easily enough and the bomb stopped in its inexorable count down. My Abyssinian comrade had wiped the grit from his eyes, but his opponent had fled scooping up one of the fallen bombs along the way. Abel roared and gave chase. Meanwhile our mystery ally had made short work of two of the bombs with controlled bursts of flame from his fingertips. The remaining delinquent seemed desperate to get his explosives right up next to the statue of the Buddha. With Abel hot on his heels I levelled my pistol, tracked his movements across the temple square, and squeezed the trigger. He swayed slightly as the bullet hit him, then stumbled and fell. He did not rise. Swiftly and methodically the three of us disarmed the remaining explosives. Although I must confess my heart did not stop racing until Abel smashed the final bomb with one his iron shod boots. With my pulse slowly lowering and the breath in my lungs once more I approached our new ally, my hand extended in friendship. “My name is Dr. John Watson, and you sir, have my most profound thanks.” The man merely nodded and said, “Hu.” “Dr. John Watson,” I replied. Thinking perhaps the man did not speak Japanese. He shook his head and tapped himself on the chest. “Hu,” he said again. “I am Hu.” TO BE CONTINUED ...
The Fated managed to kill all of the cultists AND deactivate every single bomb in Act i, scene i. Seeing that the Great Buddha was undamaged and the Obsidian Gate is still intact, how does that affect Dorje Tsundue's Ritual? Does he still perform it without the Obsidian Gate? Can he still become possessed? And does he still summon/transform into an Asura?
All the other Faction's forums have a thread about Book 4 already, and the Guild is busy celebrating it's new filth already, and meanwhile our forum is dead, so let's change that. I don't have the book yet, but managed to get a glance at our new upgrades and Reva is getting a fourth one, which was left out of her description on the main page. It costs 1 SS, (1) action, requires a 6 of any suits to cast and pushes a friendly model up to 5" in any direction and if it's a Revenant or a Spirit let's it perform a (0) action. Can only push a model once per turn. Also has a trigger on rams which makes the target count of a corpse marker for Reva's Strength of the Fallen ability. Does this change your perception about her?
Provided I don't completely burn out by doing this, I have the time and energy for it, should you ask. If you want to know the specific stats of any model in Book 4, I'd be more than happy to give you the block. Or, if you just wanna know some specifics, I can give those, too. Or if a thread(s) like this already exist and/or are illegal and/or are stupid, feel free to delete this one. To help choose: :ramsTHE GUILD:rams Lucas McCabe (Master; Mounted and Dismounted) Luna (his totem) Guild Riflemen (stat card already posted) Guild Pathfinder (rare 2) Clockwork Trap (rare 3) Sidir Alchibal (unique) Wastrel (rare 3) :crowsTHE RESSURECIONISTS:crows Yan Lo (Master) Soul Porter (totem) Ashigaru (minions) Chikai, the Niece (unique) Izamu, the Armor (stat card already posted) Toshiro, the Daimo (unique) Yin, the Penangalan (unique) :tomesTHE ARCANISTS:tomes Mei Feng (Master) Emberling (totem) Kang (unique) Metal Gamin Rail Golem (rare 1) Rail Worker Willie the Demolitionist (stat card already posted) :masksTHE NEVERBORN:masks Jac/kob Lynch (master) Hungering Darkness (mast-erm, totem) Beckoner (rare 2) Mr. Graves (unique) Mr. Tannen (stat card already posted) The Depleted The Illuminated (insert rose and dagger)THE OUTCASTS(insert rose and dagger) Bert Jebsen (stat card already posted) Gracie (unique) Wong (unique) Ama no Zako (unique) Orian Friekorps Strongarm Suit (unique, posted in the Outcasts forum) Vanessa, Treasure Hunter (unique) (insert eye here)THE TEN THUNDERS(insert eye here) Misaki, Mistress of the Ten Thunders (quite unique) Shang (totem) Otototototo (unique) Ten Thunders Archer (rare 3) Torakage (rare 3) Yamaziko (stat card already posted) Whew! This is probably going to be a lot of work. What have I done to myself...