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Jan NBR Witch Hunters V Showgirls


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Two Witchling Stalkers


Governor’s Proxy



Stake a Claim




Mechanical Rider

Performer and Mannequin

Two Coryphee


Power ritual

Turf War


Ukridge catches his Raptor’s decent from high into the night sky with his sickly avian eye. The bird lands hard on the Austringer’s gloved wrist and he rewards the creature with a severed finger from his hip pouch.

His hunched gait takes him across the dune and to Sonnia. “Skyclaw seen them, pretty ladies all scampering across the streets placin’ marks on the buildings and in the streets. It’s a big group of them too.”

Sonnia closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. The winds have been growing steadily stronger and like serpent flicking its tongue Sonnia extends her auspex beyond the flesh. Her soul picks at the details in the wind.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

A storm churns, birthing itself within the ether between worlds. Its centered over blighted little ghost town of Hatchetwood and it claws at the arcane boundaries looking to cross over into the material world. What it is, she cannot say, but if the Arcanists have agents here then it can only be for one purpose, destruction.

Sonnia opens her eyes and looks to Samuel, her confident all these long years. He has the same Malifaux tone to his sink that so many do, pale, sickly even. Beneath his wide hat long desert blasted hair blows. He tries desperately to light one of his cigars but the wind fights him every step of the way.

“I don’t like it Sam. I don’t like it at all.” She says knowingly. Through the gusts of wind and haze of flying sand she can see lights in the distance. They’re coming from Hatchetwood. Whatever they’re doing, they’re making progress.

“You don’t have to like to like it boss. Say the word and we ride. The Arcanists don’t have half a prayer once we make it to town. The lucky ones catch a bullet. The unlucky ones get brought back alive and to Stannish.” Sam looks nervously at the creatures skulking among the rocky outcrops near their position. They’re bodies, stout and compact, hunched, broken and weighted down with heavy ragged cloaks, leer from the darkness with eyes of hateful flame. Sometimes they chitter and squeak like rodents, sometimes they snarl like jungle predators but the worst is when they speak. That damned whispered ghost speak that echoes out of their hoods. Sam hates the Witchling Stalkers. It’s why he’s so careful to always kill what he shoots. Survivors go to the Oubliettes. And a rare few of them go to Luthor Stannish. Two examples of his harsh sanction creep about by the rocks waiting for orders.

He knows that Sonnia carries some of Stannish’s scrolls. They look more like legal documents than anything else but the power within them is clear. He’s seen it used before by Sonnia. They’re papers of condemnation, a mobile version of Stannish’s power to transform the living into Stalkers. Sonnia’s been ordered to condemn as many as possible tonight. Some he knows she despises. Both of them hate everything about what happens behind the closed doors of the Pinnacle.

“Those girls are gunna get themselves killed.” Sonnia says. Genuine concern fills her tone. She knows the ladies of the Star Theater well enough. They’re good people wrapped up in Viktor Ramos’ plots. The man is a puppet master of the highest order and he doesn’t care which loyal soldier dies for his cause. “We have to do something. We have to stop this ritual and Sam… do not shoot to kill. The girls of the Star are friends too. Stopping the ritual and securing Hatchetwood is all that matters tonight understand?”

“Yes Ma’am. Course the Witchling Stalkers and Matheson’s Executioner are gunna have a different agenda.” He looks back to the covered wagon pulled by the Austringer’s horse “and Ryle too.”

“Then make sure you get things done my way faster then they get it done their way. Let’s ride!” Sonnia kicks her horse into action riding into the unseen storm brewing over Hatchetwood. Samuel gives up on his cigar, reluctantly tucking it away, and follows. The rest of the crew mount up. The Stalkers forego horses. They ride on the eddies and currents of shadow, leaping from one patch of dark to another.

Sonnia watches the town come slowly into a clear view. Arcs of etheric energy whip across the sky or lance into the streets. Buildings shutter under the stress of howling winds that escape cracks in reality. She urges her horse on faster and into the danger.

Tonight, she suspects, will be a very bad night for her, for the Show Girls and for all of Malifaux.

Turn One and Two

“How exactly does this help the cause again?” Cassandra stares up into the night sky over Hatchetwood. Fissures in the earth yawn; sand and debris slip into the howling cracks. Awful illumination bleeds into the darkness from the cracks. Vapors twist and coil into the heavens and with them the unmistakable visage of screaming phantoms.

The ritual is nearly complete; there are only a few incantations left. It’s the last few that give the girls of the Star Theater pause. This isn’t what they expected.

“Well…” Collette bites her lip and steps back from a small series of breaks in the earth. “Um, maybe it’s just like this because we’re not done yet. It’s probably a vein of Soul Stone or something like that.” But there is no certainty in her voice.

Ginger Maye, one of Collette’s performers, hollers above the screech of the escaping powers. “Guild! Guild’s riding in!”

Collette climbs up on top of a pile of old crates, the creak and groan a weight they haven’t been accustomed to in some time. Through the flash whipping winds and dust she can seem them coming into view. “That’s Guild alright and a pretty big posse too.” She squints to see who’s at the lead, hoping for just a patrolman or some no name Guild Guard. “Damn it. Lady Criid.”

“Witch Hunters?” Cassandra’s eyes plead with Collette before her mouth even catches up. “Let’s just go. There’s no way we’re getting any magic done tonight with Witch Hunters on us.”

Collette takes off her hat and empties her mechanical doves into the night. “Doctor Ramos wants this done and the people of Malifaux need this to be done. Let’s be quick Cassie ok.” Collette then gives a signal to the shadows near the old church. An electrical humming precedes the thundering hammer of steel hooves pounding into the sand. Ramos’ Mechanical Rider powers across Hatchetwood toward one of the ritual points. She directs her Coryphee to dance toward another while Ginger hurries to the rear corner of the town and another ritual point.

She spends the next few moments powering up her own soul stones, augmenting their power and altering their stability for the best possible usage. Cassandra moves to back up her Coryphee who’ve already danced together into a duet of spinning blades and swirling colors. Their scissoring song can heard loud and clear above the gale.

Sonnia and her crew dismount and occupy the southwestern corner of town. “Sam, keep this clean. We just want to stop the ritual.” Hopkins nods but gestures toward the lumbering sweat covered executioner. “Move quicker than him, that’s all.”

“Not hard m’lady.” Sam tips his hat and rushes toward the center of Hatchetwood. He notes the scurrying weasel like Austringer, Ukridge. He leaps up and onto the hangman’s stage outside of the old sheriff’s station and he scans the dark skies like some kind of predator. Sam swears he can see the man sniffing the air. Ukridge thrusts his arm into the sky and casts his raptor into the darkness. Even from here he can see the bird circling and diving, harassing Collette’s position and causing the gorgeous woman to fall back into cover. He’s seen many of Collette’s shows and her humor along with her curves has always kept him highly entertained. The Guild can never pin anything on her. Even now, face to face with her Sam knows she’ll have an alibi and nearly identical duplicates back in Malifaux to running around conducting her usual business so as to reinforce that deception.

The Pinnacle’s Chamberlain, Galen Klypse, leads the way despite his frail nature. “Terrorists. Seditionists. Malcontents. Spare neither bullet, blade or burst in their persecution Madam Criid.”

Sonnia ignores his zealous ranting and powers ahead with him to get a better vantage on the situation. Her Aethersight sees into the word beyond and what she sees only confirms the madness of Viktor Ramos. The walls of the spirit realm and living are toppling in on themselves. “You have to stop this!” She calls above the storming winds.

“Um, no?” Collette screams back. It’s not much of a retort but it’s all she could come up with.

The Coryphee complete their portion of the ritual first and quickly begin to dance toward the hilltop near the hangman’s stage. The dynamite they have planted there could scatter the Guild and collapse the weak ground ending the threat.

“Sam!” Sonnia warns and her partner turns and fires with rapid precision. His bullets burst into flames mid air and rip through the duet shredding them into twitching parts.

The covered wagon pulled by Ukridge’s horse shakes. The side wall bursts open and one of the Guild’s nightmare super weapons lumbers out screaming into the night. Ryle marches forward and pushes further head from the rest of his team, shunning their humanity, before raking his weapon’s fire across one of the doves and the Mechanical Rider. The Dove shatters, the rider continues on, completing one of the ritual points before driving on toward another.

Round Three and Four

Cassandra takes the Coryphee’s place trying to activate the Dynamite but the Witchling Stalkers leap and squeal around the rocks chasing after her. The crack of their greasy pistols and rattle of their broken blades echo around her forcing her to fall back and abandon the detonation but the witchlings follow.

Sonnia wreathes her hand in heat. The air ignites with flame and smoke. She hurls the ember filled burst at Collette’s position trying to force her surrender. She falls back but doesn’t relent. Collette fire’s back with a discharge of Soul Stone energy but Sonnia holds out her hand, a radiant eldritch symbol flickers into air between her and the arc of Soul Stone power. The bolt fails, curves in on itself and strikes back at Collette scalding her.

“You really need to stop this! Do you even know what you’re doing!” Sonnia begs.

“I’m trying to save the people of Malifaux from you and the Guild!” She screams back.

“This isn’t going to be good for anyone! Look, I don’t like the Guild either but…” Sonnia tries to reason with her but Collette just falls back to recharge her Soul Stones. “God damn it.” She sighs. She fills her hands once again with flames and intensifies the heat to a burning white. She lets them fly and they burst apart near Collette throwing her to the dirt and setting the old farm on fire. Collette’s down but Sonnia scans the rest of the town, the ritual is nearly complete. The rider is already on its way to the final marker.

“Sam! Bring it down!”

Ryle hammers fire into the rider but it avoids the fusillade of bullets from the fleshwork’s gun. It nears the ritual site, its horse breathing out a wreath of choking smog as if struggling under the pace it’s rider is forcing. But Sam Hopkins steps into its path. The stampeding machine threats to trample him but he doesn’t waiver. He raises his gun, takes care aim and fires. The clanking machine shutters and dies, skidding across the earth and halting at his boots. The rider vanishes into the cloud of smog and trails off into the night.

Turn Five and Six

Sonnia forces Ginger out of the fight and into cover too with a final blast of fire. The field looks secure and the quaking of the earth is starting to die down. The only showgirl left in the fight is Cassandra but she evades the Witchlings that are hounding her at every turn.

She leaps around the rocks and avoids Hopkins’ line of sight. But instead of a clear path she finds Klypse blocking her path. “Arrogant! Detestable! We’ve built a world for you! We’ve forged a metropolis from blood and stone for you ungrateful lot and this is how you show your loyalty!”

Cassandra stabs her saber into the little man’s chest but he doesn’t die. He wraps his little hands around her throat and squeezes. As death tightens around him his hands grip tighter around her threatening to take her with him but she fights back and summons every last drop of will. Freed from his grip she kicks the little troll of a man into one of the fissures where he’s consumed by the emerald light in the depths of the earth.

Cassandra pushes herself, there’s nothing left but the goal now. Just as the ritual nears its point of failure Cassandra reaches the final point and utters her command words.

The ritual is completed.

Sonnia covers her eyes as the Aether beyond our world shatters the barrier and bleeds into Malifaux.


Show Girls: Power Ritual completed 4VP

Witch Hunters: Raid and Stake a Claim completed 6VP

(Damn Cassandra and that after game activation)

Sonnia wins


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