Snowwhite
From IKwiki
I started out with a box of Warhammer Dwarves with guns, added a Confontation fig for Snow White, then added idea of her being able to jack marshall a unique creation which started out as a mage knight fig, with WH weapons and a Vor steam pack.
I wrote fiction for both creative aspects
By Calvin Daniels
Alexandria had been a good soldier. At one time she had been considered Sorscha’s equal when both were pre-teen cadets back in the capital.
But that was a long time ago. That was before Sorscha showed promise with the magicks, while Alexandria was only good with the fire brands of war, the treated long guns of the nation. Not that rising to the ranks of the vaunted widowmakers would have been a bad thing. Such a path was one of honour, and Alexandria and her family would have been proud.
But then along came Mikhail, a tall, blonde cadet with the deepest blue eyes Alexandria had ever seen. By now a young woman, tall with gunpowder black hair set against a pale skin of winter white, Alexandria was under his spell from the first time their eyes met on the shooting range. The heat between them seemed to melt even the coldest day in Khador.
But, Sorscha too had spied Mikhail, and with her growing reputation, one that would lead her to the sparse ranks of the Warcasters in the years ahead.
A few well placed whispers in the ears of a few superiors dreaming of promotions on Sorscha’s coat tails, and Alexandria was soon not as favoured.
Within months Alexandria found herself stationed to some remote border post high on a mountain ridge keeping a half-hearted eye on the land of Rhul and the Dwarves which never seemed too concerned with the politics of men -- except for the occasional band of rogues sneaking through the mountain passes to blunder small villages.
It was a posting that no matter how keen a shot she was, had doomed Alexandria to no where, while far away Sorscha’s career was now in charge of giant warjacks, and her free time was free to swim in Mikhail’s ocean blue eyes.
Alexandria seethed with each patrol through the mountains. She might have been the ruling officer, but it was over a handful of men, too old, too ill-mannered or to unskilled to be deemed worth taking into a real battle. With each crunch of snow under her boots she seethed with hatred for the witch who had cast her to such a fate.
It was on just such a trek through the unchanging pass fate would yet again cast Alexandria a new path to follow.
Passing along a low ridge, the mountain touring above, Alexandria spied a stag wondering the valley below. So had one of the men, a fool with no thought but for his stomach, sick of dried rations. He lifted his gun and fired. The stag only bounded away, while above them the mountain was angered by the interruption of the silence. Snow began to rumble down the mountain face.
Alexandria’s reflexes kicked it diving for the slight cover a rock overhang just to her left. If the stone above her head did not break off, perhaps she would survive. She heard the screams of her comrades, as their reflexes failed them, and the avalanche of snow carried them to their deaths in the valley the stag had just ran from.
Then above her Alexandria heard a cracking sound, looking up just in time to see the protective stone above her give up a piece of itself to the weight of the snow. Then it was blackness as the piece of stone grazed her head on its descent down the mountain.
When Alexandria regained consciousness, her mind felt as though it were wrapped in sable fur. Her head ached. Reaching up to touch her brow she found it swelled and agonizingly sore to the touch. Blood spattered the snow where her head had laid.
The bite of a Khadorian winter had snuck through even her heavy clothing, and her joints protested with each movement.
Yet move she did, for to stay even in the seeming comfort of decline would be death. She struggled to her feet. Disoriented, she could still see the path behind her was blocked by the snow of the fall.
Her destiny now lay ahead.
Slowly she trudged on down the mountain toward the land of the Dwarves.
Within a couple of hours Alexandria’s legs wanted to abandon the trek. They protested every step, wavering like wheat before a breeze. She focused her mind swearing to survive, in order to find Sorscha and have her heart of a sword for putting her here staggering along with death’s shadow her only companion.
Alexandria remembered reaching the edge of the trees, seeing the tall tamarack still green in spite of the snow, but then her mind had faltered, her legs slowly twisting her body to the snow. She struggled to regain her feet, but then there was only blackness.
Alexandria’s eyes finally fought their way open. There was light, and she immediately felt there was warmth. Where was she? Perhaps this was the here after, she thought.
But, then she saw them, eyes watching her from bearded faces. She tried to sit up. Her head spun in protest and she fell back, realizing her head came to rest on a cloth sack filled with some fragrant grass. She shook her head trying to clear it.
“Ah Sneg Belyj stirs,” she heard one of the bearded ones say.
The words were familiar, but made no sense, she must have misheard through the ache of her mind. Slowly she sat up, scanning her surroundings. It was a log building, a fire lace on the far wall burned warm. The furnishings were utilitarian, but sufficient. Around her she noted were a group of Dwarves. They must have found her out there on the mountain and brought her here.
But what were they doing out here, she wondered? Unless, yes, they must be the rogues who harried the border on occasion. Her hand went to her hip seeking her musket, but she found that her gear was not with her.
One of the Dwarves told her not to worry, but to rest, to rebuild her strength. In her heart Alexandria knew she had no other choice.
In the days ahead she mended. The bump on her head subsided. Her mind cleared. Her strength returned.
The Dwarves, although somewhat dour, cared for her more than anyone since her mother, and even she had been eager to see her off to cadet corps for training.
In time, Alexandria began to wonder where the Khadorians were. Surely a missing patrol would be draw out a search party.
While it was likely they had found the dead and assumed her body buried, in her mind it was yet another plot by Sorscha, pulling strings to make sure she was never found.
Alexandria stood on the porch of the small hut and vowed never to return to Khador unless it was leading an armed force to exact her revenge.
But it would not be as Alexandria. She had died on that mountain just as Sorscha had wanted from the outside.
Maybe the Dwarf had been right, she was Sneg Belyj -- Snow White the lady from the snows.
But, she would need those willing to follow her. She watched as the Dwarves, all seven, sat on crude stumps of woods and cleaned surprisingly well made short arms. Snow White smiled. Perhaps she had her force right in front of her.
Snow White SPD STR MAT RAT DEF ARM 6 5 4 7 14 11 Hunting rifle RNG ROF AOE POW 14 1 -- 10 Sword SPECIAL POW P+S -- 3 8
Dwarves SPD STR MAT RAT DEF ARM 4 6 6 7 13 14 Short arm RNG ROF AOE POW 8 1 -- 12 Warhammer POW P+S 5 11
Leader and 5 troops 70 Up to 2 additional troops 10 ea Field allowance C Victory points 2
Special rules
- won’t play for Khador
M’Rok could not believe what had occurred. The arrival of Snow White had given he and his brothers a purpose in life again.
However, M’Rok sensed a sadness in the pale-skinned lady. By the light of the evening candles her tales were often of the great metal warjacks of Khador. She had been in training to control the behemoths of war and Sorcha had stolen that future from her. She told of how dramatically effective the Khadorian warjacks could be in battle, of how the great metal monoliths had swathed through a motley crew of Khadorian dissidents and a few rebel Dwarfs from Rhul and she had been there to revel in the glorious victory of metal.
M’Rok knew there had to be something he could do to bring a smile once more to Snow White’s face. It was fortunate M’Rok came from a family that were noted for metal craftsmanship, having been builders of shielding for cannons, and makers of gears for three generations -- and the generation of a Dwarf was a long one. He knew he could build a warjack given the materials.
M’Rok turned to J’hner, the scrounger of the seven. When he had first told his plan of the jacks J’hner had laughed, as he tried to grasp the size and power of the great jacks.
Then J’hner asked the question M’Rok had not even considered, that of what made the jacks run. The question had M’Rok shaking his head, and J’hner suggested that would be the first thing he would need to know.
It had not taken M’Rok long to find a merchant who had traded in the human lands for decades. Old B’rlap had even once seen a parade in honour of some robed figure in the capital of Cyngar. He told of the great metal monsters limbering down the street toward the city square. Some carried spears taller than most humans. Some were half hidden behind huge metal shields. Another bore a monstrous warhammer, while still others carried all fashion of firearms.
B’rlap knew at least enough to explain that the great jacks operated on mechanics which seemed to capture the essence of a mind, which the operators of the jacks could somehow control. It was surmised the control was magical, although for a Dwarf he admitted he did not understand magic well. It was with a tone of dejection M’Rok related the theory B’rlap had offered on the inner workings of warjacks to his uncle. J’hner was less discouraged. He reminded automatons were not new among Dwarves, with many machines operating at menial tasks, from hammering in the mills to clawing earth in the mines, yet they operated with at least some rudimentary level of autonomy, bound only to an overseer.
So M’Rok and J’hner set to the task. While successful artisans, the seven were not rich, so in spite of desires to build a truly massive and lumbering creation, gold necessitated more a modest construct, although still near twice as tall as M’Rok himself.
The forge fires burned near continuously for moon cycle after moon cycle. By light of day the pair toiled to fulfill contracts long signed for all manner of mechanical creation. Then as the moon took control of the sky they would set to the task of forging sprockets and gears and springs for the inner working of their ironclad creations.
For what seemed days on end M’Rok did no more than swing a hammer molding sheet metal over a huge anvil, shaping it into the outer skin of the creations.
Slowly a single unit was built, differing to some extent in design.
The creation -- which M’Rok had come to term a microjack -- was stalky in design, stout and strong like the good dwarf himself. Large booted feet were built to ensure stability, even on wet and slippery terrain. An electroaxe was gripped in the jack’s right hand, with its left hand became a weapon itself, the fingers becoming huge mounted claws designed to rip through anything it might face on he battlefield.
With construction complete, innards of gears and pistons and hydraulics, hidden behind fitted metal shielding, M’Rok sought out a sect of priests with lives dedicated to the god of war.
While they too discounted the need of such creations, for a donation of gold -- the last the dwarves had from their mining days -- they said they would pray for guidance of what they might do.
A triumvirate of aged priests visited the jack which could do little more than move its joints in spasmatic fashion. They looked at the weapons, touched the cold steel, chanted some ancient prayers, then left for their monastery deep in the mountains to the west to pray for guidance.
Days passed, followed by a moon cycle, then another, before the priests returned producing a blessed cortex, which they said would be tuned to the very thoughts of the beloved Snow White.
Once the cortex was installed on the head of the automatons the jack stirred. M’Rok was pleased. Snow White would have that which Sorcha controlled.
The Claw Dwarven Microjack
SPD STR MAT RAT DEF ARM 5 7 5 5 12 16
ELECTROAXE
LFT Special POW P+S
-- 6 13
CLAW
RT Special POW P+S
-- 4 11
