IronChief

Kinky.

Very Impressive! She's got huge.... tracks of land.

Chinese Proverb: "Men in the game are blind to what men looking on see clearly." I also think: "The road to hell (or Malifaux) is paved with good intentions."

No doubt! I wrote part one and most of part two when we only had the original rule book. I liked the "Wyrd Wild West" aspect of the game. The second book came out and the 'canon' headed in a different direction, less mano on mano it seemed to me. So I put down my proverbial quill. Recently I was reviewing some old files and came across the unfinished part two. I decided to finish it off and post it. Even if the main storyline is now about gods and devils, there is still room for an old cowboy or two hiding out in the badlands. *wink*

Frontier Justice – Part 2 The smell of the cook fire drifted through the long leaf pine trees in the early evening air. Henry Banes was a passable camp cook. Having never married and spending the majority of his 38 years on the trail, he had lots of time to practice. Two weeks had passed since the attack on his store in Sharp Pass. Mayor Greely, a tall thin man with a long face and greying hair, had politely but firmly suggested the town didn’t need any trouble and that Mr. Banes’ lease on his shop had run out… yesterday. Henry didn’t blame the man much. Mayor Greely was good at running the little town, but you wouldn’t expect him to back you in a fight. It just wasn’t in his nature. So, Henry picked supplies out of the wreckage of his shop that he would need and sold the rest to the Wong brothers down the street. Mayor Greely had even stepped in to make sure the Wongs gave him a fair price. That was as good a proof as any that the mayor really wanted him gone. He bought a roan riding horse and a brown pack mule and set out for the back country. Henry wandered generally north for the next few days. He passed near enough to the town of Sawdust to see the smoke of the steam powered saw mill, but didn’t ride into town. Sawdust had a reputation for tough lumbermen who worked hard and played harder. There was no reason to go looking for trouble especially since it was probably following behind. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the creatures that had attacked him in Sharp Pass, but it didn’t figure that they had just given up. “Hallo the camp,” a voice called out from the lengthening shadows along the track he had been following. Henry lifted his eyes from the bacon he was frying to see a single man on horseback. The strangler had stopped a respectable distance away and was waiting for Henry’s response. While things were different in Malifaux, Henry had been raised to be generous to travelers. “Get down and come on in. Have you had supper?” A short, stocky man got down stiffly from his horse and led the animal into the fire light. He had the fair complexion of an anglo, and wore a brown duster. A black bowler hat that could use the attention of a good brushing was perched on his head. Henry could just make out a worn two gun rig under the duster. “Thankee, stranger, it’s a pleasure to share your fire.” He pronounced fire almost as if it had two syllables, Fi – Air. Henry nodded toward a tree with low branches where his own animals were tethered. The newcomer tended to his horse and settled on a patch of clear ground on the other side of the fire. They shared their provisions with Henry contributing beans and bacon while the newcomer had bread and cheese. Between the two, it made a respectable meal. After they both had eaten their fill in relative silence, the newcomer belched and then said, “Billy D is my name, and I thank you again for the provender. If I ain’t being too nosy, who are you and where are you headin’?” Henry nodded, “Name’s Banes, Henry Banes.” Giving the truth of why he was wandering the back country wouldn’t quite do, so he added, “I’m planning on doing some prospecting, up north a ways.” Billy D seemed to accept the lie at face value. “There is a ranch another day or so along this path. I hear tell they are hiring guns to keep their herds safe. That’s where I’m headin’.” Billy D nodded to himself. “Yep, I even hear there is a pretty daughter that runs the house, though what fool brings his womenfolk to a place like this is beyond me.” Henry’s thoughts returned unbidden to the image of Lady Justice on her horse. He smiled and tossed back, “Some of them womenfolk are tougher than us men.” Billy D laughed and slapped his thigh, “Henry, you are right about that. I remember this one lady in Savannah…” Billy D went on to tell a bawdy story of questionable origins about a Madam and a customer who wouldn’t pay his bill. “… and I hear tell he’s never been able to get rid of the mark.” By that time it had gotten dark, the true blackness of nighttime under a canopy of trees. A red glow from the embers of the fire gave both men’s faces a devilish appearance. Henry stirred and brought up two large chunks of wood he had saved for the night. They would burn slowly with less chance of the fire burning itself out. He dropped them onto the embers and a shower of glowing sparks shot up in a glittering column. He could see Billy D on the other side of the fire arranging his bedroll. “Night Billy D,” he said. “Night Henry,” Billy D replied and settled his bowler to cover the top half of his face. Both men started awake to a chorus of frightened whinnying. The horses stomped and pulled at their tethers. The fire only gave off a low glow from the coals which made seeing more than a few feet away impossible. Henry scratched a hand out across the ground searching by feel for the kindling he had gathered. He could just make out Billy D standing up and drawing a pistol. Somewhere beyond Billy D, Henry could see a pair of glowing red eyes. Barely above a whisper Henry said, “Billy D, right.” The bowler topped gunfighter turned and spied the eyes. The flash of the pistol lit up their camp like a lightning bolt but was gone too quickly to reveal any enemies. Whether or not the shot in the dark hit anything, the eyes were gone. Henry got his hand around some twigs and tossed them onto the fire. At first they only sizzled and smoked, but after what seemed like minutes, they caught. The little yellow flame grew and began to light the camp. The horses still pawed the ground nervously, the whites of their eyes showing in their fear. A yowl pierced the night and a flying mass of claws and teeth impacted Henry’s back. Henry screamed and danced up trying to dislodge the thing with both hands. Billy D whirled pistol in hand to see a white furry critter clinging to Henry’s back but both were moving too much to risk a shot. Then he had problems of his own as another critter bowled into his leg nearly knocking him down. Billy D looked down into evilly glowing feline eyes. The hoarcat sank its claws into his leg through his heavy denim blue jeans and began to climb. Billy D flipped his pistol to grab it barrel first and began to beat at the critter on his leg. Henry, meanwhile, danced in pain as the cat had worked its way up his back and was swiping his unprotected neck with its claws. Reaching back, Henry finally got hold of the creature just behind its forelegs. He ducked his head low and pulled the creature forward throwing it to the ground in front of him. He raised his head just in time to see the hoarcat twist and flip in midair so that it landed on its feet. The cat looked him in the eye and gave a low growling howl. Henry reached for his shotgun, and the hoarcat took off running into the night. The cat attacking Billy D dodged another blow from Billy D’s pistol butt, released its hold on his leg and also disappeared into the night. Billy D looked down at his shredded jeans and blood leg. Henry placed his hand to the back of his neck and drew it around in front of his face to see how much blood was on it. “Daaaamn.” Billy D was the first to speak. “I’d heard about them things but thought they were more up in the mountains and such.” Henry was still considering the blood on his hand. “Yeah, that’s what I heard too. And that they travel in packs, not just ones and twos. I wonder what they were…” He didn’t get to finish his thought. Both men looked at each other and then at the tree where the horses had been. Had been, there were no horses there now. One broken tether rope dangled limply from a limb. “Daaaamn.” Billy D said again. “They were after the horses!” He pulled his bowler off and slapped it against his thigh in frustration. Henry peered into the night. “It’s too dark to track them now. A horse is pretty big and those cats are kind of small. We may find two of the horses still alive in the morning, if we’re lucky.” Dawn came after a couple of sleepless hours. As soon as it was light enough, the two men began examining the signs around the camp. Neither was an expert tracker, but it was clear there had been more than two of the cats. Five or six seemed to be the likely count. The frightened horses left a clear path heading west. They put all their food supplies into one set of saddlebags and used a rope to hoist it up into a tree. The saddles, blankets and other heavy gear they hid behind an old stump. Each man carried his firearms, canteen, some trail food and other necessities. There was no way they could carry the rest without animals. The camp as secure as they could make it, the men set off through the woods. Briars tore at both men’s arms and legs as they struggled to follow the path. Half an hour later, Henry saw vultures circling through a break in the trees. They made for the spot and found the remains of Henry’s mule. There was no sign of the cats and nothing to be done, so they left the carcass to the vultures. Another hour of searching turned up the other two horses grazing in a meadow. They had stayed together during the night. Billy D’s mare had a long scratch on her flank but otherwise they appeared unharmed. “Sorry about your mule, Henry.” Billy D said after they caught the two horses. Henry shrugged. “Just bad luck is all. I hate to lose the mule, but better it than me.” He paused and shaded his eyes with his hand as he considered the sun’s position. “It’s about mid-morning, if we head east from here, we can’t miss the trail.” Billy D nodded agreement. “That’s what I figure too, we should come out somewhere south of last night’s camp. We can head north, collect our gear and be on the trail again by lunch time. Speaking of lunch, how long do you think before them cats are hungry again?” Henry shook his head, “Who knows, but we best be out of the area before it happens. We don’t have any more mule and they might not be in the mood for horse.” The two men started leading their horses east. They had to avoid the densest foliage and steepest grades for the sake of the horses. They rounded a small hill and entered a stony meadow. Both men were focused on looking for landmarks which would indicate the trail. As they approached the center of the clearing, a wave of dizziness struck Henry like a physical blow forcing his head down and his knees to shake. “Billy D?” Henry managed to croak out. He turned to look and movement of his head increased the dizziness. His stomach roiled in rebellion. Billy D was lying on his side in front of his horse. Slowly, Henry sank to his knees in the tall grass. Panic rose in Henry’s mind, they were helpless and in the open. A kitten with delusions of grandeur could take them both in their current state. Henry began to feel warmth from the breast pocket where he kept the Malifaux medallion which had caused so much trouble back in Sharp Pass. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned the pocket and withdrew the gold hoop. While it had shifted and lit up that night two weeks ago, it was positively vibrating now. Different incomprehensible letter patterns flashed upon its polished surface. Was this the source of the dizziness? No, he felt less dizzy with it in his hand. He focused his concentration on the medallion and felt the dizziness slightly ease its grip. Struggling back to his feet, Henry still felt weak and disoriented, but no longer completely helpless. He staggered back to where Billy D lay. The man was still breathing but his eyes were tightly closed. The horses stood idle, apparently unaffected by whatever was attacking the men. Henry slowly bent down and hoisted Billy D onto his shoulders. He wobbled over to Billy D’s horse and flopped the man across the horse’s bare back causing the bowler hat to pop off the unconscious man and fall to the ground. The medallion never left Henry’s hand. He clung to it like a life preserver as he led Billy D’s horse to where he could grab his own horse’s bridle. A glance around showed the two men and horses were roughly in the middle of the clearing. It was just a far to go forward, back, left or right, so Henry began to slowly plod forward. His head felt heavy on his neck, continually pressed down toward the ground. Each step was an effort. He stared at the ground a yard in front of his booted feet. Something white enter Henry’s field of vision. With effort he focused on a pile of bleached bones. Really, really old, Henry thought, and a detached part of his mind wondered who it was and what had brought him here. A few steps later, he noticed one of the many stones of the field. While it appeared rough, it was in truth covered with intricate, but heavily worn inscriptions. Henry looked back to check the horses and noted with alarm that the path of trodden grass was not a straight line. He was walking in a curve to his right. If he continued as he started, he would end up walking in a circle and never leaving the clearing. Never leaving the clearing… a wave of despair dropped Henry to his knees. He remained on his knees, his mouth foul from rising stomach bile. His horse stepped forward and blew hot horse breath and spittle on the back of his head. She seemed to be saying, “I don’t mind you dying here, but at least let go of my bridle so I can graze properly.” Something in Henry’s mind snapped, and he suddenly found the situation amusing, possibly even funny. Here he was in the wilderness of Malifaux, with a man he barely knew, less than 30 yards to safety, and he was on his knees. He hacked a couple of times trying to moisten his mouth and then managed to rasp to the silent stones around him, “If you are going to screw me, you have to at least kiss me first.” Henry struggled to his feet. The world tried to slip out from under him to the left, then to the right but he steadied himself and remained standing. There was a holly bush at the edge of the clearing, its green leaves shining in the sun. He focused on the holly. One step closer to the holly, he rocked back and forth but remained upright. He took another step, then another. The holly began to grow in his field of vision. At last he could almost reach out and touch the bush. The last step was like moving from deep water to dry land. The dizziness left as rapidly as it had come leaving only a headache and a queasy stomach. Billy D slipped off his horse, stood on shaky feet and looked about. “What in Dante’s name happened? I was ok then just keeled over.” Henry shook his head, “I don’t rightly know. But you see them stones, they have engravings all over them. I figure this is some sort of temple… or graveyard. Either way, it don’t like visitors.” Billy D considered for a moment and scratched idly at his head. His eyes darted up and his hand felt for the hat that wasn’t there. He looked around on the ground for a moment before asking, “My hat?” Henry pointed out to the center of the clearing. “Daaamn,” said Billy D, “Guess it’s time for a new hat.”

Thanks HobbyDad!

Wanted Three Wise Men. Last seen in One Accord. Presumed dangerous approached from afar. That is all. :vb_tongue

I have no hate for Malifaux. My disappointment is Wyrd seems to have trouble managing their success. A writer says that he is doing fiction to cover models being changed a week before the deadline. Books are being rushed to print and then have balance issue or errors. Rules questions on the forums are not resolved in a timely fashion. It takes over a week to construct the gallery for the latest Rotten Harvest even though it was known weeks in advance when it needed to be done. Instead of focusing their limited time on Malifaux, they introduce Puppet Wars as well. Regular excuses that the store is down, shipping is backed up, we're getting to 'it', etc All these point to too few people trying to do too much work. Relax, take a deep breath, and manage your success. Decide what your core business is. Forcus your talents and energies on what you do well. Good luck and God bless.

Hi friends, Everyone has done an excellent job this year. I don't think I have ever seen so many top notch models in one place! As my halloween gift, I am dropping a humorous (I hope) comment in every entries' goodie bag. Please accept them with the good heart which they are intended. Thanks! Iron Chief

It's not on the radar at my LGS.

The war pig rider is one part. If the Pigapult isn't at least four parts, I'll eat Som'er's hat.

First, I recommend the Pull my Finger wiki, it has a good article on Lady Z. Beyond that a few thoughts: Her main offense is "Obey" either on your own model for extra moves or attacks or on an enemy model so they attack their own friends and move out of position. Voodoo doll - Really helps Lady Z even if it just lets you cast two obeys instead of one per turn. Easy to proxy if you don't have the model available, just be sure to use the updated rules - not the ones in the rule book. Mature Neph is a beast, well not a beast, but a large angry not-beast. Anyhow, obeying your own Neph for extra attacks gives a Z crew a lot of outgoing damage for the action spent. And unlike Bad Juju which cannot be "Obeyed" the Mature Neph can. Also immune to Marcus shenanigans being a not-beast. Good luck!

Hi folks, Thanks for the input! It seems like if I want to play So'mer, some additional purchases are going to be necessary.

Hi, When Malifaux first came out, I thought the concept of the Gremlins was great and the models looked good enough, so I purchased the starter. After much losing, mostly to the Ortega's, I put Som'er away. Now my friend wants to play Malifaux again. It has been well over a year since we played. So I decided to read up on Som'er, here and on "Pull My Finger." From my reading: 1) Som'er Teeth is rubbish without mosquitoes 2) Lots of gremlins (in general) are rubbish without Ophelia 3) Pigs may or may not be rubbish 4) Slop Haulers are a 'must include' 5) Young LaCroix are a 'must include' if you take Ophelia 6) In smaller fights (25ss) take Ophelia and the LaCroix and forget Som'er In summary, since I don't have any book 2 or later models, I need to purchase the LaCroix box, a pack of Young LaCroix and a pack of Slop Haulers if I want to be able to assemble a competitive Gremlin list. Does this seem accurate? Thanks for your ideas!

Fantastic! I am not biased, glances at Avatar, much...

Going back to the original thought, do you just walk away from the table? Regardless of whether a particular combo is beatable, if there are army builds out there that are totally unfun to play against, why would you spend your hobby time playing against them? And by extension, isn't it poor game design to put players in a position of not taking the most competitive lists because they want their opponent to have fun?

Exactly this. I would prefer a game that you can bring the master of your choice with a well thought out list and have fun, win or lose, against all other lists.

Wayland Games = Waylate Games. I have discovered that ordering from Waylate is a roll of the dice. You either get it impressively fast or stunningly slow regardless of the indicators on their web page. Their customer service consists of asking you to wait. It's a relatively new company so hopefully they will get the bugs worked out.

Going back to the original post, it seems the 'average' life of a miniature game locally is about two years. Folks are willing to play a good game for about that long before deciding it is time to try something new. As often as not, the new interest is not even a miniature game. They will drift off into video games, relationships, sports or what have you. There are a few die-hard fans who will stick with one game year after year. Even they will vary in interest, but can always be counted on to be willing to put models on the table when asked. They may not even be the best players or modelers, but end up being the banner bearers for their game. Games themselves are like food. Everyone has their own taste and what tastes great to one person may make another hurl. You can no more blame a gamer for liking a different game than you can blame a person for liking (or not liking) sushi. I haven't found a game yet that everyone likes. What draws me to a game is theme, balance and available players. I dropped PP when the theme got to dark for my taste. Malifaux died locally due to balance issues. And as much as I would love to try Infinity, no one plays locally.

Flames of War Dystopian Wars Incursion I haven't had a Malifaux game in over a year. It has died locally. :disappoin

Danger Will Robinson, Satire Alert, Warning! Warning! “You know in the Cloud City when Luke is fighting Vadar?” “Yeah…” “Well Vader didn’t cut Luke’s hand off, he cut off his HEAD.” “Vader killed Luke?” “Kind of, Luke’s body and head fall out of Cloud City and get scooped up by Lando in the Millennium Falcon. Lando realizes Luke cannot be saved without some major help so he takes Luke back to Vadar. Vadar uses Dark Force to reattach Luke’s head.” “No way.” “Vadar releases Luke since he knows Luke can’t survive without the Dark Force now. Luke tries to go back to the rebellion, but he is torn between his loyalty to Obi-Wan and Yoda and his debt to his father for saving his life. He also has to wear an ascot so the other rebels won’t see his neck scar.” “But I kind of like Luke as a good guy.” “Nah, that would be so boring…”

Cool models. Still disappointed by the death of Lady J and company.

There are treatment centers for Gremlin Love... :coolpics:

Choice #4... Really? :embarasse

My week 3 entry: Cry "Squee" and let slip the puppets of war! #puppetwars I'm a sucker for the classics.