The Seacrette Seven: The Story of Victoria Seacrette

"Uh...it's not what it looks like?" stuttered Duggan, his eyes meeting the unblinking, laser-burning stare of Victoria.

"I think it's exactly what it looks like," she hissed through gritted teeth.  "Exactly!"

It happened to be the scene into which Victoria had stumbled. Warm sunshine glowed through a thousand lazy motes of dust, oblivious to the activity beneath them: Duggan above, Heidi below.

Trousers down, dress up.

Panting.

Bits of hay gently floated to the floor, the frenetic activity that had so disturbed them now stopped.

Heidi, her face aghast, clapped her mouth shut and writhed out from beneath the scrawny Duggan to find her feet next to the rapidly shrinking boy.

"Victoria!" she gulped.

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Heidi."

Duggan stepped forward, his finger raised. "Now don't you go starting anything, Vicky, there's a very reasonable explanation for all of this."

Victoria placed her hand on his naked chest, stopping him at arm's length. "Don't you Vicky me, you godless son of a bitch!" she rasped. "I won't be starting anything, but I will be ending something."

Heidi drew herself up to her full height and drew in her breath. The act of doing so caused her dress to fall back into place. "Don't you go threatening-"

In their frantic embarrassment, what neither Duggan nor Heidi had seen was the quiet clenching of Victoria's fists, the left a tight ball, the right tightly gripping the handle of the wooden pail she was carrying when she had entered the barn moments earlier.

Victoria instinctively led with the left. Heidi's nose was no match for the solid worker's hand that struck it. A brief surge of satisfaction registered with Victoria as she watched Heidi's eyes widen just before the impact. The wet crunch left little to any party's imagination as to the resulting state of Heidi's bridge.

Victoria's right hand followed through, swinging the bucket in a tight, vicious swipe that, now that Heidi had fallen to her knees, connected satisfyingly with the side of her head, the empty bucket disintegrating even as it's hollow thump echoed through the barn.

Duggan, too stunned by what he was seeing, tried to raise his arms and left leg in defence, hoping to ball up into a fortress of limbs. He never made it.

Victoria's now unencumbered right fist continued directly into Duggan's left kidney. Duggan did ball-up, but not in the fashion he intended. As he slumped to the ground, his chin, floor bound, met Victoria's left fist, ceiling bound.

The resulting gun-shot like crack both indicated the breaking of Duggan's jawbone and the conclusion of Victoria's attack.

Panting, she stared at the two figures, Duggan twisted over, unconscious, and Heidi sitting flat on the floor, blood streaming through her fingers as she clutched at her nose. The bleeding girl mewled in confusion and agony.

Victoria shook her head. Heidi had been a beautiful girl. Quiet how a snivelling wretch like Duggan had managed to attract her attention was quite beyond Victoria's imagination. Still, the bitch deserved to have her face re-arranged for messing around with other people's husbands, as far as Victoria was concerned.

She dropped the handle of the pail and turned to leave.

"Waid, pleade."

She turned to look at the pitiful form of Heidi on all-fours, trying to get to her feet. A brief pang of pity shot through her before the anger returned. Rage was a good teacher - both Heidi and Victoria experienced a first as Victoria learned the round-house kick.

Victoria closed the door of the barn, leaving both witless idiots unconscious on the floor. Burning the barn was a step too far, she realised - there was a difference in the sympathy one could expect between the jilted wife and the jealous murderer.

She had no real idea what to do now that she had beaten the two senseless. Doubt gnawed at her as she strode home - was she really planning on leaving? Where would she go? What about her marriage vows? She looked up at the forbidding darkness of the forest that ran alongside the road. Was that really a place for a woman?

She wandered through the village gates, turning just before the bridge. She sighed as she looked at the little tannery she and Duggan shared. Had the marriage really been that bad? This was the first time anything like this had happened, she thought.

Or was it? How would she know? Just because she didn't know, doesn't mean it wasn't happening, right?

Fire surged through her veins again as she recalled his puffing cheeks and her yelping cries of satisfaction. She looked around, daring any other woman to appear - no doubt the bastard would have had his way with half the bloody village - could she really kick all of their arses? Would she?

She slammed the door behind her and thumped up the stairs, her mind made up.

Except -

No. Sort it out, Victoria. You're leaving him, and that's that!

She could return home, of course. To her parents. Mum had always had her doubts about Duggan anyway and Dad would just be happy - he always was. And it's not as if they didn't have the space - Daddy had done quite well despite his lack of education. He just knew how to do business, is all.

But to return home would be to return a failure. To face the delighted stares of her younger sisters, both beautiful, both married to responsible, loving husbands. Could she face such condescension?

Victoria realised that she had stuffed the few items of clothing she had into a leather pack he had left lying on the bed. What on earth was she doing?

Think, Victoria. Just think. Go downstairs and sit down. Sit on your hands. Just until you have an idea.

She nodded to herself. Good idea.

***

Twenty minutes of sitting had done much to clear her head. In that time, she had both wept and sworn, kicking at his work bench and breaking her favourite tea pot.

The answer that kept coming to her was the convent up at Ratchitt. That's what happened to unfaithful wives and unwed daughters whose integrity had been compromised, wasn't it? Why shouldn't she do the same? They were bound to accept her. She was hard working and practical.

But Ratchitt was over a week's journey away. How would she get there? More importantly, how would she get there safely?

It was another frustrated kick that revealed an answer. The heavy work-bench, laden as it was with tools and skins, skidded across the rough floor, before shrugging off the load of skins upon it. There gleamed a beautiful axe, half a holster wrapping its head. Presumably the holster was here for a repair?

She reached over.

No, Victoria, it's not yours. 

Her hand stopped.

Neither is he, anymore. 

She touched the handle.

That doesn't matter. Taking this would be theft. 

The wood was sensationally smooth. She ran a finger up to the blade.

So? He's responsible for it! Besides there's no point going into the forest just to get eaten by wolves - you're hardly showing him then, are you?

Her hand clutched the handle. Suddenly she was holding it in both hands, testing its weight. She realised she was grinning.

Go on. Take a swing...

***

Victoria ran through the forest, desperate to put as much distance between her and the village as possible. The lantern jangled about in her hand, its light dancing crazily over the road and the surrounding trees.

You stupid, stupid girl! she thought. You'll never be able to return, now!

"Just take a swing!" she fumed, muttering to herself. "You couldn't have bloody done it outside, could you have!"

She didn't even register the presence of a fork in the road as she jogged along - she chose left.

"I mean, its not as if it didn't look sharp, is it, you daft cow! What did you think was going to happen?

"Besides, who builds these houses anyway! I mean, what a stupid place to put a wooden pillar! And to have the whole weight of the upper floor rest on it? I wouldn't build a house that way!"

She felt sick as she remembered the house collapsing behind her. She'd had just enough time to register what she'd done, stuff a few essentials into her pack and dive out the door before the whole thing came down.

She slowed to a walk. She had been jogging for some time now and the weight o both her physical and emotional baggage was telling. "You can't keep this up, dear," she announced to herself.

But you can't go back either. Nothing says 'divorce' quite like breaking your husband's jaw and knocking his house down, does it?

She stopped and sighed.

"Better find a place to rest."

***

Name: Victoria Seacrette
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 6'2"
Night Vision: None
Alignment: Neutral
Psychology: No effects
Languages: Old Worlder

Career Class: Ranger
Career: Herdswoman

Name: Victoria Seacrette	M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Dex	Ld	Int	Cl	WP	Fel
Starter Profile	5	28	33	2	4	5	27	1	23	34	34	23	34	29
Advance Scheme			+20	+1		+2	+10
Total Advance				+1
Skill Benefits					+1
Current Profile	5	28	33	3	5	5	27	1	23	34	34	23	34	29
WFB Profile	5	2	3	3	5	1	2	1	-	7	7	5	8	-

Fate Points: 3

Money: 8 GC

Skills:
Dance
Luck
Astronomy
Animal Care
Charm Animal
Musician - Wind Instruments
Specialist Weapon - Sling
Animal Training
Herb Lore
Very Resilient


Trappings:
Hat
Cloak
Leather Boots
3 Blankets
Cutlery
Tinderbox
Small Cooking Pot
Flask of Water
Axe
Knife
Sword
Pan Pipes
Sling (and ammunition)
Staff

***

Of course, the line we're the most interested in will be the WFB profile, but I thought I'd include everything I've generated just to round the character off. My plans essentially are to give her an experience bump for each outing, and then use events in each outing (be that outing a small skirmish or a full battle) to determine further experience.

Over the Christmans break, I'm hoping to start her story as game, pretty much from where we've left her today...

The Seacrette Seven

A vast swathe of October, the entirety of November and so far, this small chunk of December, have been consumed by real life.

The unavoidable variety of real life, specifically.

And, as much as I consider life to be the lesser of two evils, sometimes I just wish it wasn't quite so real. Or, at least, if it intends to be as real as it has been of late, at least to spread that reality evenly over the year, rather than carefully saving it up for a time when I look sort-of comfortable so that it can burst out of behind the bedroom curtains and beat the shit out of me.

What I don't have for you today is any further progress on the Lichemaster, or the Dark Elves, or any modelling work at all, in fact. Not a thing. Painting has happened, but pictures have not. And we all know the rules: pictures, or it didn't happen.

But what I do have this evening is the first stage of the outcome of a joyful dip into fantasy wonder much akin to my first forays into the Realms of Chaos.

Long time (well, June...) readers might already remember Victoria Seacrette and Dumbel Doore - possibly even their involvement in the events at the village of Mourning Glory. Coupled with the recent completion of Albi Schutz and Antonio Epstein, I realised that I have enough painted figures to do some dungeoneering. That is not to say that I've forgotten about my alternative adventuring party - but rather, that I've found synergy between the Terror of the Lichemaster objective and dungeoneering.

So by way of connecting point A (The Realms of Chaos one) to point B (the painted adventuring party one), I must reveal that I have broken out the polyhedrals,  the rulebooks and the character sheets, and generated four characters.

Using Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay rules.

The 1st edition, to be precise.

Now I had considered using the sensei rules included in the Realms of Chaos books. There are a few tables and some equipment to generate and I'm sure its interesting to do - but hardly the same fare as act of generating a chaos champion. Why, I think generating a sensei warband might take nearly as long as ten minutes, if one was to dawdle.

Fortunately, by using the WFRP rules, I instead was to sip from the smooth, well matured cup of narrative randomness that only comes from many tables, allowing my characters to slowly reveal themselves to me, some being forthright about themselves, others being coy or playful.

Of course, not all things were random. I shall specify the method I used and which bits I used the its-my-stuff-and-I-can-do-what-I-like override. I trust you will approve of how few times that golden hammer needed to be used.

The figures, sculpted as they were, already told me a story. The story allowed me to make the class selections and determine which age range they would come from.

Drumman Bace and Ferrero Rocher

The figure of Albi Schutz was evidently going to be of the Fighter class. He looks experienced - a tough and practical soldier who had lived through many battles. We agree that he's already peaked - perhaps been through a few tough campaigns, but unable to let go of the adventure and battle of excitement, or possibly just not knowing any other way. So, he continues with adventure. Somehow I get the impression he's not very good with money management - never a beggar or a wastrel, but unable to focus on any goal long enough to practice any intelligent financial planning or to enable a life outside of adventuring.

We looked at each other for bit, before he told me his name: Drumman Bace.

The figure of Antonio Epstein was, having eliminated the other models, obviously the Rogue of the party. Straight away I knew he was (to anchor us in the Warhammer world) a Tilean. Regardless of world, his influence was fully and solidly Italian. Stereotypical, really, in that he's not as fond of the fight as his boisterous and challenging words might suggest he is. He is a risk taker, though - just not a fighter. He seems to be an irrational optimist. He won't tell me any more, though.

"Roll some dice," he suggests, winking. "You'll see who I am."

His name is Ferrero Rocher.

Victoria Seacrette and Dumbel Doore

The figure of Libby (from Hasslefree) we already know a little about. She's introduced herself as Victoria Seacrette - and the name checks out. She wasn't lying. In fact, the single outstanding characteristic about her is her unfailing honesty. Not borne of simplicity or stupidity, just of a wise head on young shoulders, perhaps coming from the fact that its a tough life in the Warhammer world for ladies. She never intended to be an adventurer - it seems she had some man problems earlier in her life and having set herself upon the course of an adventuring life has found supreme liberation at being in control of her destiny. She's never looked back.

Of course, she's bigger than other ladies, a fact that she's well aware of. Fortunately, she's embraced who she is and is certainly found playing to her strengths.

She will be of the Ranger class.

The figure of Gymlet is also a known quantity. He, too, has proven to be honest about his name: Dumbel Doore. It is a 'humanisation' of his Dwarf name, which I don't yet know, but he's been around humans for so long now that he doesn't mind. Dumbel strikes me as a mischievous fellow with a robust sense of humour. He is hardly the dour dwarf, though: he is chatty and cheerful and although he hasn't admitted it, I suspect he practices yoga. He is certainly far more vigorous than he lets on. Curiously, although he witters away happily covering a wide range of topics, he doesn't actually tell me much about himself: not so much from lack of trust, but some sort of throwback to his upbringing or maybe his culture? He just doesn't talk about himself.

"S'rude," he mumbles, before showing me how far he can bend his thumb back. "Double jointed, see?If you really want to know something useful about me, then have this: I love roast lamb. Love. It."

Dumbel will be of the Academic class.

They haven't yet revealed how they've met or quite why they now work together, but despite Drumman's age and experience, Victoria seems to be the party leader. These two certainly have an interesting dynamic - she asks him for advice, but he's happy to let her lead. The other two seem to trust her and are both bemused by and proud of their adventuress leader.

The party so far..

Next time, I'll post the character sheets of each character and hopefully reveal more about each, including their 'translation' into WFB terms. You'll be amazed at how closely the dice ended up reflecting their character...

Just before we move away from the party, Victoria suggested there might be other members of the party we've not yet met: when I asked if the party had a name (as some do - there are even adventurers who formalise their relationship in contracts...), she grinned and said, "Why, the Seacrette Seven, of course."

She raises her finger to her lips. "But they don't know that. Yet."

Dumbel Doore

Following on from my first entry in my alternative adventuring party, I've finished another adventurer:

Bugger. It's an ethereal. And I left my silver blade in my other handbag... 

But wait - what's this?

Sir Dwarf, I don't suppose you could help a lady out?

Eh? What's that? Help a lady count?

What Lady?

Nothing to count here...

Hmmm. Voices again. Better sort this ethereal out before someone gets hurt.

Oh thank you sir! I thought I was done for!
Eh? No no - not Dunne Fore - name's Dumbel Doore. DUMBEL DOORE.

So I introduce to you Dumbel 'I'm getting too old for this shit' Doore, a brave and accomplished dwarf wizard, blasting his way from dungeon to dungeon as he seeks out fame, fortune, ancient lore and expensive whisky.

Again, we're going for quick painting, as opposed to amazing painting, which is something I've found is helping me get on with things. Seven painted figures and a Warhammer Quest set in one month? I think its working. Who needs detail anyway?

Also, not sure quite what happened with the pictures, I just couldn't get the light quite right, so apologies for the darkness and slight blurriness. Don't worry - there will be more opportunities to see our fearsome adventuring pair!

Goblins. You need more goblins in your life.

It's not exactly forty painted goblin wolfriders, but it is goblins, and they are painted.

Five of them.

As I crawl ever forward, one patient, painful, drawn-out paint stroke at a time:

Not staged like Victoria, unfortunately, so you'll need to use your imagination if you don't like the green plastic setting. That not a problem for you, right? You are looking at goblins, after all.

In other news, the last vestiges of common sense have finally abandoned me. Lonely, confused, bruised and weeping, it phoned me last night to tell me we were through.

So now, equipped as I must surely be with either uncommon sense, or common unsense (dare I say - nonsense?), I thought I'd print out warhammer quest.

What's that? Printed it out, did you say?

Yeah. Er. About that. I, um...found it. On a hard drive. Not my hard drive, you understand. Someone else's. I thought it was my tax return. Oh well.

The thing is - I want to buy it. Its just that GW don't sell it. And after the Lichemaster arrived, I find myself unable to convince my wife that I need to spend ~£150 on eBay for what she understands is just a board game. As if!

I have fond memories of the system and I keep hoping that GW will re-produce it. I know there have been rumours to that effect, so I wait with interest. But, until that time comes about, I decided to make my own. Its much harder work than I thought, but having started, I must now finish:

Of course, these things aren't the hard part - that comes with laminating and cutting out what must surely be over a hundred thousand cards for encounters and treasure. I've not taken pictures, because right now I hate the damn things and they have been shut away in a drawer.

Eh? Was that a question in the back? Could you repeat that? Oh, progress on the Lichemaster, you ask?

I'm getting to that, honest.

What? Another question? Pushy today, aren't we? Go on then...

Final turn of River Chai?

Yeah - that too. Nearly there, honest! Before June ends, I'm almost certain.

Unless I decide to paint another adventurer...



EDIT:

In a completely unrelated note, I discovered something interesting today. I'm not big on the whole stats thing, but every time I post, I pop over and check the hits and source sites - especially as this is a great way to find other oldhammer blogs. Specifically, I found the following search term led to a hit on the blog today:

adult+fantasy+art+blow+job

I just wish I knew what went through his mind as he read with excitement the title 'Warhammer For Adults'...