Wellingstone

The problem is not so much that killjoy gets there turn one. It's that he gets there when your opponent is totally activated with no way to reprise during that turn or set up to intercept or anything similar. For many crews their entire crew has activated before anything significant happens for the rat engine player. There are a lot of lists that can deliver heavy hitters on turn one, but typically there is a risk associated with it. killjoy is not quite as scary when you have the ability to react. As it stand the number of crews that can effectively counter this tactic is pretty small.

I agree that simply making rats unhireable is probably the K.I.S.S. solution to reigning it in.

Cheryl and I will be there!

awww I got the shout out! Thanks for running it!

I like Pathfinders with him quite a bit. Traps are decent devil's deal punching bags if you have no other use for them. Not to mention that the Hunting Musket has very respectible range and damage track with two good triggers. Because they are guardsmen they are rarely out of range with Issue Command. With df 6 they can stick around longer than you'd expect.

Officer Morgan stared at the open letter on his table. He hated getting these letters. Again he’s been “asked” to accompany Dr. McMourning on another secret assignment. He hated working with the doctor. There is something wrong with him, something about the way he smiles, something about the way he looks at you… makes your skin crawl. As always this assignment comes from the office of the Governor’s Secretary, and refusing is a sure way to get assigned to sewer patrol. The scrip loose inside the letter is little comfort, secret assignments were always dangerous, and there was no guarantee that you’d come home in once piece. His pneumatic arm was testament to that. Tonight’s job was to accompany the doctor to the quarantine zone where he needs to retrieve a high value objective from a pair of statues. What this objective is was not specified, it never is, and Morgan knows better than to ask questions. All that was in the letter was the directions, the scrip, a scrap of cloth, a large vial of water and smaller vial of water. He tucked these strange objects away into his belt pouch. It was nearly time to get to the rendezvous point. He checked his peacebringer, reached to his belt with his good hand to make sure he had plenty of extra ammunition. Satisfied he stood and lifted his pneumatic arm. With a flutter of feathers, Abigail, his raptor flew from her perch in the corner of his small apartment and landed on his outstretched arm. Her talons scratched into his steel forearm, of course he felt nothing but the addition of her weight. Together they exited the cramped abode and made for the streets. Within a few minutes he made it to the Guild checkpoint leading to the Quarantine zone. Sebastian, McMourning’s assistant was already there, accompanied by a pair of “nurses” clearly not kitted out for field work. Short dresses with tall boots and low cut neckline were good for looking, but not much for combat. However he knew better than to underestimate them all that being said. “Ma’am” he said as he tipped his wide brimmed hat. He certainly did not look at them for very long, not out of bashfulness, more out of fear. Abigail picked under her wing and gave not a second’s thought to their strange company. Sebastian looked at him with a blank expression. If the tiny man had any thoughts, he gave no indication. Down the street, his heart sank, the characteristic red hair and laboratory coat came within view. He was whistling a little ditty, which made the otherwise quiet night that much more unnerving. “Ahh what a lovely party we have here! And it looks like we are all dressed to impress!” exclaimed the doctor though an unnaturally wide smile. “Doctor” Morgan uttered. “Good to see you again Austringer! We’ll be needing your services tonight. I trust you’ve been prepared?” Asked the doctor excitedly. “Yes doctor.” Morgan replied. “Looks like your arm is doing well.” Mcmourning remarked as he planted a “friendly” arm around the officer. His arm lingered in a way that it was less than comfortable. “Yes sir.” Morgan answered, annoyed and ready to just get to work. “Well, lets get going, no need to waste time with small talk, there’s a job to do!” Said the doctor in such a way that it seemed to imply everyone else was stalling for time. After an hour’s walk in the quarantine zone, the temperature lowered significantly. Frost formed on the cobblestones and he soon understood what he’s probably going to see. Morgan’s heart sank even further. “Up ahead is the objective. Take position in that alley, out of sight. We’ll call out targets as we need support.” The doctor said in a very clinical way. Morgan followed orders, and took his position as directed. The rest of the crew advanced down the street. His breath turned to fog in the progressively colder air. He kept his senses sharp. At any moment he could hear an order. “Ice Gamin!” Shouted a voice with a Scottish accent. With a practiced motion he reached to his belt pouch and retrieved the small vial of water, uncorked it, and lifted it to the Abigail’s beak. “Go Girl!” With that Abigail took to the sky. Within seconds she returned, her talons covered with ice shavings. “Acolyte!” Screamed a shrill female voice. Again, he reached to the pouch and took the scrap of fabric, lifted it to Abigail, and she was off. In seconds she had returned, Talons slick with blood. “Golem!” Droned a dim-witted voice. This time he gave Abigail the larger vial of water and she took off to harass the target. In that same instant a click of ice on stone rounded the corner and a vicious looking gamin was in his line of sight, damaged, but still combat capable. He knew it was dangerous to have even the small ones in sight for more than a moment. Abigail was still gone so he reached for his peacebringer. He leveled it at the gamin. Click. Click. Nothing. How? His mind raced, the Doctor, his embrace. But it was only for a second or two. How was that possible? Why would he sabotage his own man? It was too late, a blue wintry beam struck the gamin and a yard long icicle propelled itself toward Morgan. Impaling him through the chest. He wavered in and out of consciousness… Maybe minutes later the doctor was standing over him. Morgan’s dimming vision and dulled hearing could only faintly pick up what he was saying. “Ahh yes, another one to blame on the Witch. Sebastian, the camera!” Ordered the doctor. A flash, and then darkness… Abigail circled above her austringer, her sharp eyes finding no movement. She landed on his metal arm. Nudged his face with her beak. Cocked her head waiting for a response. None came. She looked to the sky and single shrill screech pierced the chill of the night.

Dr. Smedley’s Asylum: December 12, 1906 Attending Physician: Dr. Stanley Grimwell Patient: Officer Quinton McBrady, Male, 35 Symptoms: Apparent Schizophrenia, Hallucinations, False Memories, several broken ribs and lacerations (treated). Recommended Treatment: Full frontal lobe lobotomy and steady opiate medication Patient Interview Transcript Attached: Forward to Dr. Ian Smedley (along with voxiphone recording for further recommendation. [Begin Interview] Grimwell: Tell me officer, what exactly brings you here? McBrady: Our last assignment [long pause] I saw things. Things I can’t explain. Grimwell: Malifaux is a strange place, being an officer of the Guild, you must have seen more than your fair share of the odd. McBrady: Sure I’ve seen Neverborn monsters, Arcanist constructs, and the dead rising to fight you. But these were something different [shivers] Is it cold in here? Grimwell: Nurse, please adjust the heat to the room, our patient is uncomfortable. Please start from the beginning, what happened? McBrady: Our post had received a report that a Resurrectionist was seen operating in our sector and we were to head into the quarantine zone and apprehend him for interrogation and execution. It was me, Riflemen Dobbs and Farley, and Sgt. Hanley. We set out at dusk in hopes of finding him in the open, rather than having to poke through abandoned buildings and old ruins for this creep. Grimwell: Seems to be a fairly typical assignment. What happened on this one that unsettled you? McBrady: So it did not take us long, we found a man matching the description. Long laboratory coat, prosthetic arm and leg, and some kind of device on his back protruding from his coat, very thin build. He was wearing a hood, so his face was obscured. He was just standing there, in the middle of the street. [McBrady sips his coffee and pauses for 23 seconds.] McBrady: Sgt. Haney drew his pistol and approached the man. Giving him the typical “You are under arrest by order of the Governor General.” This is when all hell broke loose [Mcbrady shudders] Grimwell: Take your time, recall the details as best you can. McBrady: [Voice is lower, difficult to understand] The necromancer, if that’s what he was, reached out his arm to Hanley. Hanley fired and put one round square in his shoulder. He flinched but maintained his reach. Hanley dropped his pistol to the ground and gripped his throat with both hands. Blood was pouring out from his eyes and mouth. Dobbs, Farley and myself opened fire, we emptied our weapons on him. He slumped to the ground, blood pooled around him. Dobbs reloaded while Farley and I rushed to assist Hanley. [McBrady looks to the floor] [Several seconds pass] Grimwell: Please, continue when you are ready. McBrady: [Angry] Why are you smiling, do you think this is funny? Do you find this amusing doctor? Grimwell: Certainly not officer, my research shows that smiling can put the unwell at ease. Please continue. McBrady: [calmer, but trembling] Hanley, he had no eyes, his skin was drawn tight around his bones like some kind of sick mockery of a human. Then [tears begin welling up, can not maintain eye contact] his head [10 second pause] came off and [5 second pause] thin metal legs came out from inside it. It it it [stutters uncontrollably]rose up and Hanley’s mouth screeched at us in a tone that hurt, all over. I struggled to reload my revolver but it had already crawled away. [shivers violently] McBrady: Then we heard Dobbs scream in agony. The necromancer was behind him just lightly touching him on the shoulder. The necromancer was covered in gore. How did he get there? How was he still standing? Dobbs’ scream turned into a wimper as the… life… left him. His flesh shriveled on his bones, blood seeped from his pores. [McBrady gags, perhaps on vomit. 13 seconds pass] McBrady: Then [4 second pause] his legs got up, but without the rest of him long metallic tendrils flailed out of his open lower half. Then Hanley’s head wandered into the street. Then several more… creatures as different as they were horrible joined them. Then [12 second pause, McBrady begins sweating profusely] they began, consuming or joining into each other. An unholy mountain of meat and machine stood before us. Farley opened fire as the monster charged us. It ignored the bullets completely. A gigantic fist came down on Farley and he was smashed into red paste, his guts splashed onto me. With another motion that same fist swung at me. I went flying, through an abandoned storefront I think. Grimwell: Fascinating! And you believe these events to be hallucinations? McBrady: I’m, I’m not sure. I woke up the next morning and stumbled to the nearest Guild post and recounted what happened to the ranking officer there. He told me that I needed to come here and have my head looked at. So here I am. Grimwell: Of course. My assessment is that you do seem to have suffered some violent trauma on assignment and your brain is struggling to make up a story to justify your injuries. Perhaps this is what is causing you to remember such an unlikely occurrence. [McBrady sobs] Grimwell: Fear not officer, we have a treatment that is proven to relieve you of these horrors. Nurse, please escort the officer to the operating theatre, I shall join you shortly. [End Interview]

So I gave my Dr. Grimwell model a chainsaw from the TTB Female kit. I was unimpressed by the hand cranked version. It also inspired me to write a little something about it. I'm not much of a writer. But it was fun to do. It was a calm, uneventful morning when Dr. Stanley Grimwell strode into his office. His coffee was already just where he likes it. Emily was so good to him. But what’s this? That’s a rather large package on the desk. And a letter? My, my this morning was shaping up to be something special. He pulled out his chair and sat down. At the same time picking up his “The Doctor is In.” coffee mug and taking a sip. He first took the letter. What’s this! It’s the seal of the Governor’s Secretary. This must be important! Rocking the chair back on two legs he read the letter to himself: “Dear Dr. Grimwell, Tonight I have need of your most specialized services. You see there are a few citizens that are in desperate need of your very specific method of treatment. They see themselves as revolutionaries. This delusion has caused them to become quite violent and disruptive. Efforts to apprehend them have been unsuccessful. They simply no longer respond to reason. This is where I think you will be most helpful. While I’m certain the comfortable confines of a padded cell would be ideal, you would not mind engaging in some outpatient therapy would you? You should find along with this letter a gift from the Governor General himself, a little something to show our support for your methods. Please meet my company and myself on Waltham Street behind the gearworks at 2am sharp. Your presence and expertise are welcome and highly anticipated. I’ve already taken the liberty to ensure that you will have no conflicting prior engagements. -Mattheson” Certainly this is going to be an exciting day. Placing his mug back on its place on his desk, stood up, and with both hands he lifted the lid of the package. What a grand surprise! While his hand cranked skull saw was more than adequate to give quality treatment to his patients. This was certainly a welcome upgrade. A Mark 3 Soulstone-Powered Self-Lubricating Man-Portable Industrial Saw! Just think of all the surgery that can be done. He sat back down and reached into a secret compartment under his desk. He produced a small leather pouch and shook out a single pale, glowing soulstone. With a hurried and excited motion he twisted open the soulstone chamber of his new saw. The saw almost hungrily grabbed the stone as it was placed into the fitting. Lifting it from the box, Grimwell depressed the activator lever. The saw hummed to life and the chain-blade whirred deafeningly. The smile he always wore grew just that much wider. No time like the present to try our some new “techniques.” …. Drat, blast, damn! He was running late. It was always a bad idea to disappoint the Secretary. Running as fast as he could down the high street to Waltham. He had no time to change, that bit of that old woman’s brain still clung to his lapel. How distasteful. He should not have gotten so carried away helping so many patients today. He finally made it to the alley behind the old gearworks. Mattheson was there, his mask pointed downward to his pocket watch. With a crisp snap the watch closed and the mask shifted its emerald gaze to Grimwell. “I was concerned Doctor. I see you had no time to dress for new patients.” Lucius seemed to simultaneously hiss and laugh while saying. “My apologies, but rest assured I’m ready to administer treatment! I even brought your gift to help!” Grimwell replied with a nervous smile. “Very good, doctor, please follow me.” Lucius nodded. Lucius led him into the loading dock of the gearworks. There he saw a hunter construct, a couple of guild guard, and a monstrously tall man wearing a suit of armor common to the Friekorps. however this one had a giant tank of some sort on his back and enhanced pneumatics on his legs and arms. More disturbing than that was one of the guild’s lawyers, they gave him the creeps. A map of their immediate area rested on an easel. “In a few minutes we’ll move into the square, that’s where I expect these rogue elements to be gathering. Doctor I would like for you to flank around us and administer treatment to individuals that may harass us from afar. The rest of us will disrupt their gathering.” Lucius said absently while pointing to a map of their location with his cane. “Doctor if you would please take a position here. Once the commotion starts you may begin your rounds.” Lucius explained staring through Grimwell. The party moved out of the loading docks and took up their positions. Grimwell moved to his location quietly and quickly. The pale light from the soulstone chamber being the only thing that would give him away. He would need to do something about that. He leaned up against the alley wall keeping an ear to the air waiting for his signal. He was not disappointed. Gunfire erupted from the square. Advancing down the street towards him was a man with a tall hat, long coat, through which he could see an abundance of strange looking pistols. Clear diagnosis was a man with a fetish for firearms. Removing his ability to use them should alleviate this psychosis. Grimwell strode out of the alley toward the gunsmith. The gunsmith was surprised but not unprepared. He managed to squeeze out one shot however it ricocheted off of Grimwell’s metal mask. The soulstone saw roared to life with an arcing cut Grimwell severed the man’s hand at the wrist. Following through with the momentum of the swing arced around and severed his other arm at the elbow. Blood spurted in coursing arcs from the man’s severed limbs. He was now cured. Firearms would no longer torment him. This new saw is pretty great for patients. A blast of magical fire ignited Grimwell’s coat. Damn, that was his good coat. The pain was intense but he was able to whirl around to see another man in a long cloak only a few strides away from him. However his hands were quite literally alight with magical flame. Now this, this was unacceptable. Obsession with magic is a very serious delusion. However, Grimwell very much knew the cure. Hunched down he darted toward the mage. Icy blue bolts of frost and flame flew inches above his shoulders. He dropped the saw and let it hang by its shoulder strap. In the blink of an eye he produced a hammer in one hand and an ice pick in another. He had one chance. With disturbing speed he held the ice pick to the tear duct and nearly within the same fraction of a second slammed the hammer home. All of this before the mage could even react. A single drop of blood ran down the mage’s cheek. The mage just stood there, doing nothing, blankly staring forward. The magical fire extinguished. He was cured. Grimwell put his hands on his hips and admired his work. It was going to be a good morning.

see you there!

bump

Elevation rules always have to have some ambiguity. And that bit of counter-intuitiveness comes with the territory. However as written-the way these rules interact is pretty rough without making a house rule. I gotta believe that the intention is not to have two ht 1 models on ht 3 vantage point that can't see each other because there is a ht1 crate on the ground level between them. I think either an errata or a FAQ is needed.

It's all enemy scheme markers within 4" Reading too deep into the grammar is going to lead to madness.

Yes I believe you are correct.

*edited for wrongness

Care explaining why. I'm not all sure why he could not get it back.