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Miniatures Adventure => VSF Adventures => In Her Majesty's Name => Topic started by: Silbuster on 15 May 2014, 11:08:15 PM
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Vanya, Queen of the Vampires, First Amongst the Brides, She Who Must be Greatly Feared. Such very agreeable honourifics and so well merited. The Master called and so we obeyed. It is good to obey the Master. Healthy too. It seems that we have a newcomer in our Olde Country. A certain Bad Jack. The Master is displeased. There is room for only one icehole in Transylvania and we all know who that is. We have been assigned to the Bad Jack Removal Pogrom.
Jacky Boy was hiding in the museum. Perhaps he was searching for clues as to our whereabouts. Well, he need not have bothered. The whereabouts were searching for him. As we rushed into the musty, dusty, web-festooned, crumbling pile, I felt a rush of empathy. It was so like home! But what was this? A whole heap of curiously attired tourists were rushing in from the opposite side. All armed to the teeth. They appeared to the entire guest list of some B grade country house party together with a small tribe of pygmies. Big guns, long spears, depressingly clean and tidy. They hardly raised the tone of the party. Still, fresh blood. One should not complain. Probably they have an interestingly exotic foreign flavour. How refreshing. One can tire of pulped peasant.
As we only had pistols though, an argument with bullets seemed less attractive than one with poisoned knives. Nine Brides and Igor filed into the room that Jack hadn’t built but where he was billeted. Bad Jack was…. rather Bad. One sensed that Jack did not appreciate company. Something to do with the steam escaping between his clenched teeth and the way his eyes popped out of his head on individual stalks. Suddenly, pistols seemed preferable to knives irrespective of how much poison they injected. Bad Jack seemed stuck for choice. He was caught between gazing insanely in our direction and moving towards the noises of more food coming through the nearby door. Evidently catching a whiff of enticing Tweedy Types, he moved to investigate. Breathing a sigh of relief, we all shot him in the back. He didn’t notice. We looked at each other. This might require something more up close and personal. Any volunteers?
Miss Orange. Such an unfortunate name. As if one could peel her skin off and suck her dry. Perhaps that is what the Master will do because she was the first to be nominated and she hesitated. Actually, she was glued to the spot which meant nobody else could get past her. Breathing a collective sigh of disappointment (yes, truly, Master!), we filed to either side to form a firing line. At the door to our front, a very peculiar person appeared wheeling one of these modern devices. An electric cannon. We remember electricity. Dr Frankenstein used a lot of it. Not much of a recommendation given what happened to him. Not much of a recommendation given its effect now either. There was a great flash of lightning. Really, it was just like old times for Igor whose eyes filled with nostalgia. Which is more than happened with Jack. Bad Jack just stood there. It seemed that choice was a difficult thing for Jack. He just could not make up his mind whom to eat first. It seemed to preclude paying attention to anything else. So we fired volleys into his back. The room boomed with the sound of bullets, the air stank of cordite. Bad Jack didn’t notice. Really, this was very poor manners. When one does one’s best to amuse the guests, they could at least notice your efforts!
This big room had four doors. The one by which we had entered was safe. The one forwards was full of modern fluff. Suddenly, pygmies starting rushing in through the door on the right. Looking down, there was a surfeit of the vertically challenged challenging us. Miss Chisel, Miss Orange and Miss Acid formed a line to stunt their growth. Through the door on the left, several improbably dressed fashion victims with big guns were preparing to shoot into the room. Vanya, the old Vanya, the previous Vanya, lead Misses Velvet, White, Blue Sky and Purple and pinned their criminal cook and bad butler against the wall. That just left Jack. Somebody had to interview Jack. And there was only I and Igor left. We charged him together. Jack gibbered and waved his knife and razor. My, but they looked big! My, when you got close, Jack looked big too. In fact, you started to notice that he was ENORMOUS!
The tiny ones made no progress against our girls but the girls were finding it hard to cut them into smaller pieces. They, and all their crew, seemed convinced that they were invincible. It seemed to be holding them up. The girls tried to explain that it is the Master who is invincible but they did not understand Transylvanian. Neither do we sometimes. Miss Chisel tried to demonstrate by allowing one of them to break his spear against her forehead. It just made him more demented.
Outnumbering the shady servants five to two, the old Vanya and her cohorts looked confident right up to the moment when the enemy’s most popular member tried to roast them all with her flame thrower. Apparently, she is an inspiration to her own people. I do not feel that I would be too inspired by somebody who is supposed to be my friend trying to convert me into charcoal but each to their own. Vanya fell, burnt to a crisp. We are a tad vulnerable to flames, we Brides. Their bad butler fell to the floor wildly beating at the flames. Everybody else involved kept in the spirit of the party by attempting to carve their names with pride. In everybody else.
The odd gentleman with the electric can opener tried again. Bad Jack ignored him. Igor and I tried to slice a few pieces off. I think we should stick to bacon. Jack finally noticed us and tried to add to Igor’s collection of extravagant scars. Nothing doing. Probably not enough room for any more.
The pygmies weren’t making much of an impression so the chauffeur crept up behind them and tried to plug Miss Chisel. I must say they’re quite cavalier about risking their own people. Still, the short ones are… short so the risk is … short. Miss Chisel didn’t look too pleased by this. Instead of plugging the plug ugly pint-sized one, she casually shot the chauffeur over the pygmy’s shoulder. He looked briefly surprised. He’ll look dead a whole lot longer. The pygmies looked a bit startled. Not actually invincible then? Tragic. Mind you, they redoubled their efforts. Miss Acid was speared all the way through. I hate it when that happens. It ruins your dress and they’re surprisingly heavy, spears are. Makes it hard to move around. Miss Acid sat down and started to struggle with the shaft but didn’t make much progress. Not to worry. We’ll help her take it out later. Miss Orange got annoyed on her behalf and minced the midget in front of her. The short stuff started to look shifty.
Outside, the butler was still trying to put the flames out so Miss White put him out instead. Miss Velvet knifed the cook. The rest started looking at their watches. An appointment elsewhere ladies and gentlemen? Mr Weirdo and his electrical contraption finally failed to get their act together, missed Bad Jack and hit Igor. Igor’s face lit up. Actually, the whole of Igor lit up. He has, of course, been reanimated more times than the Master. This time though, he went into suspended reanimation. How most inconvenient. That just left me. Bad Jack’s razor flashed through the air. Which was fine. I’m not made of air. My knife flashed through Jack. Much better. Down went Jack.
We looked at the opposition but the opposition was no longer there. That means good news for the Master. And for me. Vanya is dead. I am now Vanya. Long live Vanya. It is an ill wind that blows me no good.
Vanya,
The Old Castle.
Please do visit us sometime. Eat plenty of beef before you come.
Two pictures of Igor and the girls.
One picture of some picturesque locals.