The Rockies Ablaze, Part Three

 This post picks up where Part Two of The Rockies Ablaze left off. Part One can be found here.

Near Camrose, Alberta, February, 1937.

The morning after Frenchy Lamoreux’s visit, Sgt. Bill Craighurst set off for the mountains.  It was a calm, bright winter day, and he figured he could make it to Indian River and back before dark.   From Frenchy’s account, he wanted to have a word with Ratko Gligic, the person of interest in the disappearance of Scotty Grainger.   Craighurst relished the chance to get away from the post and breathe the mountain air, and Laurier, his massive Husky, was clearly delighted to be trotting along.

 The Mountie stopped first at Grainger’s cabin, which as he expected was cold and empty.  There was no sign that it had been ransacked.  Everything was tidy and orderly, like the man himself.  He reached Gligic’s ramshackle place shortly before noon, and saw faint smoke rising from the chimney.  Craighurst dismounted, tethered his horse, and approached cautiously, studying the cabin.   Other than the trace of smoke, there was no sign of life.

 Craighurst didn’t see the trap until he was on top of it, but his natural dexterity allowed him to throw himself aside before his foot descended on the touch plate.

 He was still lying in the snow when he heard a snarl, a shout, and a fusilade of shots as Gligic stormed out of his shack.   Craighust felt a bullet pass through his Stetson as he crawled behind the shelter of Gligic’s woodpile, dragging his rifle by the sling.   “Ratko, calm down!  I’m just here to talk!"

“Go away!  Leave me alone!  I kill you!”   From the thick Slavic accent, it was clearly Gligic.

A bullet slammed into the woodpile.   Craighurst chambered a round as a precaution, but thought talking was still better than shooting.  “I just want to talk about Scotty Grainger.  Where’s Scotty?"

“Wasn’t me!  It was him, the wolf!  The wolf gets him!"

“What wolf, Ratko?”  

“Wolf with red eyes!  He get you too!"

This conversation was clearly going no where.   Craighurst gave a hand signal to Laurier, who trotted off behind the cabin.  Another shot, and a volley of Balkan curses.  “You go now, bastard!  I kill you!  Wolf kill you!”   

A snarl and a shout told the Mountie that eighty pounds of Husky had pulled down the trapper.   Craighust raced over, rifle at the ready, putting his boot firmly on Gligic’s pistol.   “Good boy, Laurier.   Now, talk sense, Ratko.   Tell me about Grainger.   What’s all this about a wolf?"

Spittle flecked Gligic’s beard and his eyes were rolling in his head.  He spoke in a kind of keening moan now.  “The wolf!   The wolf!   He coming.   He coming now.  He eat you up!”  As the prospector’s voice tailed off, a snarling growl came from deep within Laurier as the big dog bristled and bared his teeth.    Craighurst’s rifle came up, following the direction of the dog’s muzzle.

Craighurst’s gaze locked with a pair of deep-set, coal red eyes as his brain tried to make sense of the upright figure crouched in the trees, a hundred yards from him across a small clearing.

 Time seemed to freeze.  The figure in the trees was as motionless as Craighurst’s rifle.  Sensing his moment, Gligic scrambled to his feet and ran towards the woods.   The Mountie wasn’t going to shoot a man in the back, and he wasn’t going to take his sights off the strange creature across from him.   By the time his eyes flicked back from the fleeing suspect, the apparition in the trees was gone.

Craighurst slowly exhaled, and lowered his rifle slightly as one thought kept going through his brain.  Wolves don’t walk on their hind legs!

 Moving slowly, his senses on full alert, the Mountie crossed the clearing, searching for the tracks of the creature he had seen.  Gligic wouldn’t go far, he could be easily be picked up later, or killed, if that was how he wanted to go out  A skilled naturalist and woodsman, Craighurst had no difficulty finding and identifying the tracks in the snow.   They were the hind feet of a wolf, as deep set in the snow as any man’s, and only the rear feet.  After several hundred feet, they tracks went to four feet as if the creature wanted to make more speed.  So damned big, he thought.

Craighurst noted the sun’s position, and calculated the remaining hours of daylight.  Just enough to get back to town, he thought.  He’d be back tomorrow, and he wouldn’t be coming alone.

(Figures by Bob Murch from his Pulp Figures range. Werewolf by Reaper.  Cabin by 4Ground).

 

 

 

Terrain Tuesday: Winter Terrain for My Canadian Pulp Project 3 and Done

Quick post to make it under the wire for Terrain Tuesday, and calling it a wrap on my Lemax Christmas village trees and 4Ground rustic cabin. 

The cabin has a wonderful little porch with removable roof, which is handy as there isn’t quite room to fit a 28mm figure on the porch otherwise, let alone to see it.  I haven’t painted the cabin and not sure if I will.   There are other more important projects queuing on the bench. 

A dangerous standoff!

I’m hoping to tell the next instalment in The Rockies Ablaze soon, and this cabin will feature prominently, in which case I will dress the set with some Christmas village glitter snow.

Next on the Terrain Bench are some 6mm TImecast buildings for my Napoleonics project, and hope to have them done soon.

Cheers and blessings to your world building!

MP

Terrain Tuesday: Winter Terrain for My Canadian Pulp Project 2

It’s Terrain Tuesday and I’m doing fairly well in making this a regular theme.    Here are the trees from that pack of craft store Christmas village trees, all based.   I wasn’t happy with the amount of snow on them so I mixed equal parts white acrylic artist’s paint with water, applied liberally to the trees (THAT was a mess of epic proportions, I’m still finding white paint dots on my glasses) and then drenched the wet tree in Woodland Scenics white snow powder.    Once dry I spray the whole base with artists’ workable fixative to help set the snow in place. 

Still adding some winter tufts to the bases and then they’ll be done.

Also making progress on the Mad Trapper’s cabin, which is a 28mm 4Ground model, their Settler’s Log Timber Cabin 1.  I’ve purchased and build several 4Ground models and really like them, and this is no exception, very nice kit, though I did make a small mistake installing the fireplace insert.

 Some scatter terrain inside and outside (barrels, a wood stove, etc) would dress this up nicely, but it will do for now.    I may go hunting for twigs and build a woodpile, rather essential for the winter, I would think.  I should visit Annie’s Bad Squid store and see what she has in the way of scatter stuff.

Good progress made on this terrain project this week and should pronounce it finished by the next Terrain Tuesday.

Cheers and blessings,

MP+

Terrain Tuesday: Winter Terrain for My Canadian Pulp Project

I’m happy that I’ve posted on this subject three Tuesdays in a row!   

Yes, this is for my The Rockies Ablaze Project, which I am taking off the back burner for a while.    I need some more scenery and a cabin before I introduce a new character.

These craft store trees will need more snow than this!

Check in again next Tuesday to see the final result.  Check in again earlier than that for the start of a 28mm ACW project, The Battle of Seven Pines.

 In the meantime, blessings to your tiny landscapes.

MP+

More Murch Pulp Progress

As the year winds down, I’ve been finishing some small and large batches of figures.

Here are four more heroes of the north for my Rockies Ablaze project from Bob Murch’s Pulp Figures range.   I haven’t had time to think up names and backstories for them yet, but I am sure they will come to life soon.  

 

As faithful readers of this blog know, I love me a Murch figure.   

 

Early in 2020 I plan to get my Murch Zeppelin Troopers on the bench and do them in one big batch, after which things will undoubtedly heat up.

Cheers and blessings to your bushes!

MP+

 

The Rockies Ablaze, Part Two

Near Camrose, Alberta, February, 1937.

 

It took Frenchy Lamoreux a day and a half to snowshoe down from the mountains and into town.   Normally he gave the Mounties a wide berth, as did most of the trappers.   It wasn’t that he had anything to hide, he was as honest as any man, but where the redcoats were, it wasn’t long before the surveyors and the mining men and the road crews appeared, taking his way of life away bit by bit.

 

He shrugged when he reached the simple cabin of the RCMP detachment.   “Tant pis.  On fait ce qu’il faut.”

 

 

“Sergeant Craig’urst”, he nodded to the man in red serge behind the desk, as a friendly, hawk-nosed face looked up.   Craighurst was well known to the trappers as a fair and decent policeman, someone who knew the woods and mountains as well as any one.

 

“Frenchy!”  Bill Craighurst’s bantam figure rose easily as he offered his hand.   “What brings you down to town?”

 

 

“Not any t'ing good, Sergeant.  Maybe you ‘ave coffee on dat dere stove?”

 

“Of course.   Sit down.”   Craighurst poured thick strong coffee into an enamel mug and handed it to the trapper.   “Tell me your news.”  He could see something haunting the other man’s face as Lamoureux sipped the coffee and gathered himself.

 

“You know old Grainger, ‘ee ‘as dat claim up on Indian River, nearby of me?”

 

“Scotty Grainger, yes.   Keeps to himself, but never troubles anyone.   By all accounts a good neighbour.  What of him?”

 

 

Lamoureux stared out the window behind the mountie’s desk for a moment.   "I t’ink ee’s dead, Sergeant.”  He told the story about finding the blood-soaked snow.

 

“The last time Grainger was in town, he spoke ill of another trapper, the Serb, Gligic.  Accused him of stealing his furs. Even threatened him.  Do you think there was bad blood between the two?”

 

The trapper shrugged.  “Peut être.  Is true dey not les amis.  But I do not t’ink it was any man what killed ‘eem.  It was … some t’ing h'else.”

 

Sergeant Caighurst’s big husky growled faintly and looked apprehensively at his master.   “Easy, Laurier.   Easy, boy.  Well, Frenchy, I think I’d best go have a look.”

 

One look at the trapper’s face told Craighurst not to ask for his company.  The man was clearly spent.  “Eh, you go if you want, Sergeant.  But as dey say, attache ta tuque."

The Rockies Ablaze, Part One

<I’ve been going on here about my pulp project for a few years with precious little to show for it, so here goes.   Narrative fluff to start with slightly elaborated from @MarshalLuigi ’s tweets.  Small actions and character reactions to be determined using Call of Cthulhu 7th ed rules, larger actions probably by TFL’s Chain of Command.>

Near Camrose, Alberta, February, 1937.

Frenchy Lamoreux walked his trapline in the high foothills near Indian River every few days, weather permitting.   He often crossed paths with Old Grainger, out walking his line.  Frenchy looked forward to his chats with the Scot.   They’d share a tot of rum or whiskey from their flasks, and compare notes on what they were catching and who was paying best for the fur.  Lately Grainger was becoming convinced that another trapper, Ratko Gligic, was stealing from his traps.   “If I catch yon rascal in the act, I’ll kill him stone deed, I will!"

In the late afternoon, near one of Grainger’s untouched traps, Frenchy found the blood.   He was certain that it wasn’t the result of someone field dressing a kill.  It was more like something, or someone, had been simply torn apart.  Nearby, in some trampled snow, he found Grainger’s briar pipe, still full of half burnt gold flake.

As he surveyed the dismal scene, he felt his hair rise under his toque.  Frenchy knew with a terrible certainty that he was being watched.   He also knew that nothing he had ever seen on earth had made the bloody tracks heading off into the woods, and nothing on earth could make him follow them.

<Notes:   A good exercise in seeing how much winter scenery I’ve assembled thus far, and some fun with a backdrop.  It may be a while before the next scene in ready.  Frenchy is a Bob Murch Pulp Figures casting, and the thing in the trees is by Reaper.  Say vigilant, chaps!>