TheUnderFaux

Since picking up the M2E rulebook, I have been looking to pick up the previous books just to make sense of the story lines and origins of the characters. Whilst this is no means a chore ( the books and art are a gorgeous added extra!) I was thinking how great it would be at some point to have a Malifaux book purely of fluff and art. This means that newer players can read the background of their favourite characters (book 1.5 answered a lot of Molly questions I had) and would be a great way for new players to immerse themselves in the Maliverse. Would probably make sense for after the waves are complete... Any thoughts on this?

I second the above. Multipart is nice on things like the depleted and other Neverborn demon-ness, but for the most part I'd be happy with a set mould just done well. Having said that, flaming DM heads would be sweet... :-D

Personally, I always prefer metal to plastic or resin. I think there is certainly enough detail on metal for my tastes. I can't comment on costs or logistics but the short answer is yes, I'd definitely buy SE metal minis and I'm actually hoping to get as much in metal as I can before the re-release. Two reasons; I like the weight of the metal minis, they feel quality and... I don't know, powerful on the table. It evokes memories of being young and the metal minis were the special characters that you spent extra on and took pride in. Secondly, getting a model from box to display shelf/tabletop is all part of the pleasure of collecting and I happen to enjoy the extra care in cleaning, pinning and preparing metal minis. I may be minority, and I'm happy enough with plastics but I'll miss metal... :-(

Sign me up please!

Sounds very interesting, I'd be up for this. New to RPGs but would like to see how the story develops in the Malifaux universe. Sign me up!

I think this sums up why I love the Malifaux community. A thread pops up with a somewhat inflammatory theme; in short "M2E is rubbish! Netrunner is better!" Other gaming communities would blast the OP with things like "STFU, fanboy, Malifaux is perfect etc etc..." The Malifaux fans swirl their brandy and say "Why, Netrunner is a good game! Let's discuss that..." You guys are the Internet I want my kids to inherit.

Here's the link to my entry. Best of luck to all! Ashes To Ashes - Unquestionable -Jack

CHARACTER: One-armed Man LINE: "You sure you want to do this?" Unquestionable Cale Pensford idly rocked the glass back and forth on the table, watching the golden liquid slosh lazily about. Leaning forward in his chair, he stared intently at the beads of condensation trickling slowly and how the dim lantern light refracted through. He imagined that there must be some plan or formula that dictated the seemingly random path they drew but such feats of mathematics were beyond him; due in no small part to the fierce potency of the liquor. Raising the glass for another sip, he couldn’t prevent his hand shaking slightly. “Blast it,’ he mumbled, before taking a larger than anticipated gulp. The drink, whilst usually warming and pleasant, dragged sharply down his throat and sat coldly in his stomach. He rose from his chair and paced about his kitchen, clutching his glass. The lantern on the table threw shadows across the walls as he circled. Whilst the room was comparatively sparse by most standards, it was always immaculately laid out. Plates were stacked according to size and purpose and the shelf of glasses sparked like gems in a mine wall. Regardless he had made efforts to tidy and organize in anticipation of his oncoming visitors. More precisely, he had (and the thought now drew a hollow laugh from his tired frame) considered the best arrangement of his cutlery and placemats to best portray an innocent man. Six fifty-eight, his pocket watch told him. Tarnished and dented, the watch had come from the hands of his father and he had hoped that one day he would have kin to pass it forwards to. Cale placed the glass back on the table and considered the chaotic patterns that the numerous watermarks had left. His mind was active on most days and under the pressure of the impending arrival and via the lubrication afforded by the liquor, it positively buzzed. Six fifty-nine. Never early and never late. Always correct, appropriate, unquestionable. Cale had less than sixty seconds. :rams:rams:rams In front of the small mirror placed next to the door, he smoothed his thick, dark hair flat, picking off strands that stuck to his sweat-beaded forehead. His shirt was damp and felt uncomfortable; the neck feeling three inches too tight even without the lank and faded bowtie he had earlier decided against. Even though the lantern flame was casting a warm and yellow glow, Cale was surprised how pale and gaunt he had become over the course of a day. He looked ill, malnourished. Worst of all, he looked guilty. “You sure you want to do this?” he said to himself. Seven o’clock. There were footsteps across the wooden porch and a heavy tap at the door. Now, Cale Pensford had few talents, but there were two things that he would claim to be proficient in and both had equally served him well in his position as Guild clerk. The first was a keen mind for systems of organization and categorization and his office files were a credit amongst his peers due to this. The second was being able to hear when something wasn’t quite right. And if he held more composure at that moment, and if the liquor had not muffled his thinking, he would most definitely noticed that the footsteps across the porch sounded not quite right. Almost like there was an extra tap amongst the footfalls… Opening the door, the evening air blew coolly into the stuffy kitchen, bringing the smells of earth and oil from nearby industries. Most certainly out of place against the backdrop of dirt and machinery, stood impatiently at his front door were a group of men resplendent in uniform. About half a dozen Guild Guards, bedecked in the dark blue overcoats and wide brim hats of role, stood around a single shorter figure at the head of the group. This man was considerably younger and slighter the broad frames and grizzled visages of the Guard, and wore the dark grey jacket and white half-mask of legal office. He had a dark leather folio tucked under his left arm, and where his right arm should have been the arm of his jacket hung empty and limp. He smiled broadly at Cale and affected the slightest bow. “Cale Gervase Pensford, I present myself and my colleagues in respect of your gracious and humbly accepted invitation and do kindly request that we enter your charming residence.” His voice had a singsong intonation that gave his speech a mocking tone. There was no invitation; he had been sharply informed of the intended visit by a Guild associate that morning at his desk. “You are welcome,” Cale mumbled and stepped aside to allow the men in. “Most kind indeed! And in the face of my most abhorrent rudeness, for I do not introduce! I am Dorran Abberath, Juror Of Compliance and Lawyer Of Guild Law and these finest individuals are my esteemed guests. Would you see us welcome, good man?” Cale swallowed and nodded, gesturing for the men to come inside. He didn’t want anyone to see these people on his doorstep for any longer than necessary. Dorran bowed slightly, grinning wickedly and strode into Cale’s kitchen, looking around and making approving comments at the décor and ‘ambiance’. The Guild Guard walked through next, six men in all with heavy boots across the kitchen floor and took posts along the back wall, watching Cale and the doorway. Before Cale could consider the implications of such a large group, a tall man stepped inside the kitchen, elegant in a crushed red velvet jacket and white pressed trousers. His leather gloves gripped gently and lazily at a long darkwood cane, tapping softly across the floor. Cale’s stomach knotted and his eyes widened. If it was felt necessary for six of the Guild’s finest Guards to be present, what of the Governer’s Secretary, Lucius Mattheson? :rams:rams:rams Lucius turned to face Cale and bowed slowly and gracefully; the lamplight dancing on his polished golden mask and making it seem as if his face was an ever-moving flame. “Mr Pensford,” he stated. His voice was smooth and measured. Cale’s voice was lost. Dorran stepped in. “My good fellow, myself and my esteemed gentlemen do not wish to take your precious time away from you when time is that most precious and fleeting of resources to the common man, is it not?” He paused for Cale to agree, but Cale could not look away from Lucius. He was frozen to the spot. “Then allow me to continue.” The lawyer placed the folio on the kitchen table and unbound the thin leather cord. He raised a single sheet of paper, written with small neat script and stamped with the Guild seal. “I present humbly to you a written account that relates to, and concerns deeply, yourself and your actions for and on behalf of the Guild. I would at this moment offer you a chance to peruse the document at your leisure and would offer you means to make your counter case for this accusation.” Lucius’ golden visage burned into Cale’s eyes and he did not notice Lucius silently move his cane from his left hand to his right. “Mr Pensford, I would note that you did refuse the offer of formal counter case and that you implicit compliance in these proceedings are most just and beneficial to your case!” The singsong element was growing more pronounced. The lawyer bastard knew exactly how things would play out. “I will summarize! You have been seen, noted and recorded in the act of removing Guild property from premises registered for use by Guild personnel! I will specify! You have been observed in the act of removing files relating to an individual by the moniker of Aervil Grace Pensford and the suspected Arcanist connections associated therewithin!” Cale’s wife was definitely not an Arcanist; it was a lie started by a jealous neighbor that had made it’s way to Guild ears. The wife of a Guild clerk, an Arcanist; how juicy a rumour!. He had wanted to ensure that she would not be subject to the same interrogation that he heard of every day. Hushed whispers told around desks of torturous screams that would last for days and then suddenly end. Not for Aervil. He was sure that she was far away by now, but looking deeply into the dancing flames on Lucius’ mask, his certainty waivered. “Please be calmed, my good fellow, that such a crime does not automatically invalidate the remainder of your time amongst living men. Indeed, I do believe that, with time and repentance, the blessed Guild would see pity on your rotten acts and again welcome you into their hearts!” At this, Dorran’s coat arm fluttered as he gestured with his stump of an arm. “Behold your sentence!!” he cried. In a flash, Lucius had his gloved hand upon the head of his cane and, in a single motion, had withdrawn the long slender blade and brought it down cleanly onto Cale’s shoulder. Shock gripped the man and a peculiar warmness spread down his side and across his chest. Before the act had fully registered in Cale’s mind, Lucius had sheathed the blade and was turning to leave. As the Guild Guard stepped forwards to grab Cale, Dorran turned to them and grinned his wicked grin. “Don’t forget to bring the arm.”

Excellent, thanks Mako. I'd better get to work!

I'd like to throw my hat into the ring for this one too, if I may.

+1 I'm currently trying to come up with a convincing desert theme for my Guild crew especially the Death Marshals. So far, it all looks a bit 60's cowboy so I may just have to 'borrow' from some of your ideas! :Smug_Puppet1:

Same here, an awesome deck! Put me down for two!

+1 Great magazine and for a quid, you can't complain. Look forward to seeing the modular electric Malifaux board come to life. -Jack

It's sad that metal minis are being phased out - I'm not one to deny progress and I agree that plastic is a better material for many reasons, but there is nothing like picking up a powerful-looking model and it having real weight and... clout. But hey; it's what's on the surface that counts, not what's underneath! Number one model for me is (unsurprisingly) Scales Of Justice. Whilst not the most powerful or spikey or intimidating, everything about him from his posture to his expression is spot on. Models can look sad or angry or smiley but SoJ is pure despair. Well done sculptors. Well done.

That's a great idea Tombanjo, I'll definitely bear that in mind in future. Must make transporting much easier too. -Jack