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Post by lordzombie on Jan 8, 2019 8:47:28 GMT -6
Once before, we played a shifting loyalties campaign which included a story bonus. To my surprise, it went over quiet well. Since this final campaign is all about stories, I felt we need to bring that back.
The rules:
You have from Monday game night until the upcoming Sunday to post up your story. It does not have to be an epic tale, just a simple little update about your crew and the encounter they played could work. Just post it here and away you go.
The Reward:
As a bonus for doing so, you get to pick your reward.
1. Gain 2x script from encounters. In the Payday phase of the after battle, you gain 1 script for each VP you earn.
2. Gain 1 bonus script in the Weekly Hiring phase. Basically, get 6 soulstones off the cost of a model.
3. Choose to switch places with your opponent when dealt Attacker and Defender. Got an encounter you really want to play but ended up the attacker, switch. As an added bonus, if both players pick this and want to switch, they each gain a bonus 2 script.
You do have to declare your reward before the campaign starts up. Have fun everyone.
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Post by GreenMan on Jan 14, 2019 9:53:16 GMT -6
McTavish retreated from town perplexed. None of his plans bore fruit. His attempt to rig the match ended up throwing all his schemes and plans out the window. Making his bet a wash in the end. Seeing a wee little three legged monster pop into the ring out of now where... made of nothing, rather than the reputed master pit fighter he had been expecting was more than puzzling. The greased piglet he tossed in as a ringer was a waste of good bacon, in the end. Not to mention it took no small amount of whiskey to convince that dim witted gremlin to run straight at the enemy. What a waste of good shine. Restocking his reserves would cost more than he gained tonight alone. Damn gremlins can pack it away for how little body mass they have. When the inebriated dimwit ran straight for the biggest monster he'd seen in a long while, McTavish thought lil' Jeb was guaranteed to get him self obliterated. Setting him up to take the fall was about his only hope to make any progress tonight.To watch something that big avoid the little bastard like it had the plague was mind boggling. What in tarnation could make something that big afraid of a cross eyed, buck toothed, half pint like Lil' Jeb was beyond his reckoning.The drunken little shit hurt himself more than anything chasing after it. Didn't rumors suggest that particular "Big Gribbley" was once one of the all powerful Tyrants of old? I guess at least he managed to throw a punch or two in the process, not that it seemed to have much effect. Time to rethink life choices, McTavish pondered. The Bayou sure could be a harsh mistress.
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Post by vindemus on Jan 14, 2019 14:56:00 GMT -6
McTavish retreated from town perplexed. None of his plans bore fruit. His attempt to rig the match ended up throwing all his schemes and plans out the window. Making his bet a wash in the end. Seeing a wee little three legged monster pop into the ring out of now where... made of nothing, rather than the reputed master pit fighter he had been expecting was more than puzzling. The greased piglet he tossed in as a ringer was a waste of good bacon, in the end. Not to mention it took no small amount of whiskey to convince that dim witted gremlin to run straight at the enemy. What a waste of good shine. Restocking his reserves would cost more than he gained tonight alone. Damn gremlins can pack it away for how little body mass they have. When the inebriated dimwit ran straight for the biggest monster he'd seen in a long while, McTavish thought lil' Jeb was guaranteed to get him self obliterated. Setting him up to take the fall was about his only hope to make any progress tonight.To watch something that big avoid the little bastard like it had the plague was mind boggling. What in tarnation could make something that big afraid of a cross eyed, buck toothed, half pint like Lil' Jeb was beyond his reckoning.The drunken little shit hurt himself more than anything chasing after it. Didn't rumors suggest that particular "Big Gribbley" was once one of the all powerful Tyrants of old? I guess at least he managed to throw a punch or two in the process, not that it seemed to have much effect. Time to rethink life choices, McTavish pondered. The Bayou sure could be a harsh mistress. Standing O for this post. Well done Aaron! |
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Post by lashura on Jan 28, 2019 15:14:48 GMT -6
HOW COULD SHE SAY SUCH THINGS TO HIM! HIM! THE GREAT CARLOS VASQUEZ! "Act was getting stale." "You keep catching the audience on fire, that's bad Carlos." "Death defying, doesn't apply to the other performers except in MY act."
He fumed as he stomped around the bar. Carlos was furious, but felt some truth in what Colette had said. He had been doing the same act for several months now. Perhaps a change of pace could help his energy. The other great artists of the world found their greatest inspiration in the face of such doubters. He could tell a story in his next act, a beautiful tale.
What would the people like? Everyone loves a good love story?
He had seen some great work out of these new dancers Colette had hired in from the mountains. They were here to work, but were cold to everyone. Down right icy. Perhaps a love story of fire and ice. I'll call in Miss Fire for pyrotechnic help.
Where should his first stage be? There are many excellent backdrops for stories in Malifaux. Workers in the mines, fighting against long days and the elements. Downtown, the people just scrapping a meager living and avoiding the Guild. Ruffians fighting in the bars over their favorite wenches. The Resurectionists had great tales of seeking love lost to death. Perhaps try the graveyards for inspiration.
Week One
The graveyards proved too dangerous, and surprisingly overpopulated. While setting the stage to try some new choreography Carlos' act was interrupted by an ambush of mercenaries. A mass of mercenary clones apparently needed something from one of the central tombs Carlos had picked for his backdrop. Miss Fire was never one to miss a fight and blew up half the mercenaries and half the graveyard. His friend from the Oxfordian Mages was completely useless and was knocked into unconsciousness early in the tussle. The Ice Dancers did well to protect the stage space but the interruption did destroy Carlos' inspiration. Calling his losses they all left it at a draw.
Week Two
Deciding professional opinion was needed, Carlos hired a performer into his growing troupe. She was one of the more tolerable ones who actually knew how to dance and wasn't just a pretty face. While sitting and talking over the plot with her in the bar, opportunity popped up and a fiery blaze started out on the street. A massive face of fire and rage stared at every passersby. Carlos knew inspiration when he saw it. "Catch that Waynudo!" He exclaimed and the troupe jumped to action. The Ice Dancers doing crowd control on the outskirts of the fight helped set up the fire within the middle. Inspiration flowed through him as he felt symbolism build. The ressers where also trying to catch the waynudo. Carlos didn't care what for, he let the fight against death mix into his plot. This story could tell itself. The fight was good, but in the end the ressers won out. Everyone loves a tragedy. His troupe worked well but they were getting too beat up.
After taking a week off, to recuperate, Carlos decided perhaps some technical help was need to build a more. Time to talk to the steamfitters.
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