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  1. Hi all This is my first post on the forums, and i'm (as the title suggests) quite new to malifaux. I purchased two crews for The Guild faction, Lady J and her Death Marshals and Criid and her Witchling Stalkers (purely based on looks, i mean, cowboy Ghost Riders? who could pass them up!). I go into the game with my older brother, who bought various crews for various factions (Lilith, Mei-Feng, Rasputina and soon to be getting Freikorps). I've played roughly 6 games, a few with him, and a few at my games club that roped me into the game. I've got most of the rules down, and can play full games with little reference to the rulebook, but im having extreme difficulty actually doing well. In fact, i've not won a game yet XD. Partly due to luck, (i've pulled red joker once out of my 6-7 games, and had some awful hands at really important times ) but mostly due to the same thing every game; other crews seem to be able to do some crazy trick im just unable to counter that wins them the game. I got quite frustrated playing against a more experienced player using guild lawyers who held my entire crew up almost all game whilst Lucius sat claiming objectives (Lady J couldnt kill a 4 wound model) . I've also had a problem with Lady J been torn apart by EVERY single thing she has EVER engaged (she hasnt killed a single model yet). Quite frustrated with these dirty tricks, i've come to see my crews as no-where near as good as these tricky crews, as i just cant play them effectively enough to counter them, even when i know what they are doing sometimes. I really just need some help with general tactics and nasty combos to get me started with the crews i have, as playing is fun, but when im annihilated every game by pretty huge margins, its kinda frustrating. Everyone seems to say that The Guild are Jack of all trades, but i'm not really seeing that as a strength when i'm going up against these crews that can always seem to out trick me. If i try to out-shoot, they just move faster than me and close the gap. If i try and melee, i always fluff draws and fail to kill people (Case number 1: Lady J) Some general help would be nice, from anyone more experinced and/or tactically minded, as im signed up for a friendly malifaux tournament set up by the local henchman at my club, and if im gonna do this bad in it, i might as well take my own wooden spoon . Quite a lengthy post, but thanks in advance to anyone who can be bothered to read i and can help me XD Jordan
  2. Just posting my listing on ebay: http://www.ebay.com/itm/231193283783?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649
  3. The telegraph operator, a round, bald little man with thick spectacles above an enormous walrus mustache, looked up from his book and smiled. “Here to send a telegra -- ?” The big Peacebringer pistol boomed twice, so loud that it shivered dust from the rafters in a sepia veil, and the telegraph man thudded to the floor. Blood seeped into his shirt, red on white. The stranger paced behind the counter to take a closer look, his Peacebringer still at the ready, his eyes alert beneath the wide brim of his hat. He kicked the telegraph man’s body once, twice. Then he took three steps back and emptied two cartriges into his skull. Gray matter spattered against a badge pinned to his duster, and he wiped it off with the side of his palm, leaving the silver skull-and-crossbones of the Death Marshals stained red. There was a green leather-bound book lying open on the counter. He scanned the page, grimaced, then closed the cover and nodded. The subject matter was about what he had expected. The tramp of running feet outside made him whirl around, the Peacebringer held low and ready at his hip. When he saw the blue uniforms of the Guild Guardsmen, he relaxed, but only slightly. “That’s right, men. Form a perimeter,” barked a handome, broad-shouldered man in the uniform of a Guard captain. “Let’s help the Marshal clean out this place.” He nodded, then his eyes widened. “Tim McGinty, is that you? I haven’t seen you since that incident down in the Quarantine Zone. I didn’t know you’d joined the Marshals.” He made as if to stick out his hand, glanced at the Marshal’s withered fingers, and settled for clapping him on the shoulder, instead. It felt like a bundle of sticks. “You should have stuck with the Guard. Pay’s better.” McGinty lowered his Peacebringer so that it wasn’t pointing at the captain’s belly. Otherwise, he didn’t move. “Drake Larsson. Didn‘t know you‘d made captain.” “You mind putting that big gun away, Tim? We’re all friends, here.” “This fella was in truck with dangerous powers. The way your boys are manhandling his things, I think I feel safer with my piece in my hand.” Larsson followed his gaze and saw two Guardsmen rummaging through a milk crate filled with skulls in a back room. He swore under his breath and tramped up to them. As he chewed out his men, McGinty ambled outside. The Guardsmen gave him a wide berth. He was used to it. A large wagon was parked a good distance away, but McGinty could make out the glitter of clockwork day animals. The boy he had played with Earthside had rich friends now. Larsson emerged from the telegraph office, shaking his head. “Rookies. Don’t worry. They’ll take better care from now on.” “You always could dress ’em down.” “Only when they deserve it. You heading on, soon?“ “Not yet. Gotta clean out the hills first. This lab’s been running for a good while now, and the country’s prolly infested with walkin‘ dead men.” “How’d you track him down?” Larsson sounded genuinely curious. “The old boy got lazy and never changed his name. He worked as a taxidermist Earthside, got a bad reputation for being a little obsessed with Injun burial rites. We got people watching out for that kind of talk, and tracked him when he crossed over. Usually, they don’t make no trouble, but in this fella’s case, he got himself a smidgen of magic on the train ride in, and it didn’t take too long for him to get some ideas on how best to use it.” McGinty made a soft, rasping sound that might have been a laugh. “Only reason this one lasted so long was because someone at the home office was warning him about our inspections. The Lady got squirrelly about it and sent me in solo, to avoid any word leaking out. Caught the sumbitch red-handed, writing in his technical journal.” Larsson held out his hand, without flinching this time. “Well, congratulations.” After a moment’s hesitation, McGinty took it. “Thanks.” There was a moment‘s awkward silence. Larsson looked away, then back. He cleared his throat. “Being a Marshal…it’s a hard life. I’ve never understood why you don’t just go back to Richmond. Your father has a job waiting for you back at the firm.” “He knows how I feel about his damn firm.” McGinty was starting to remember why he hadn’t gone out of his way to see Larsson since the Quarantine Zone. “Cheating settlers out of their stake to squeeze out a few more pennies for the Guild isn’t honest.” “Then go into business for yourself. Join the Guard. Do anything else. Just stop killing yourself. Gray hair, arthritis, your -- face. You’ll be a dead man before you’re forty.” “At least I’ll die doing some good,” he snapped. Silence for a few seconds. Then: “Gertrude is still waiting for you.” “Reckon you’re a better match for her, now.” Larsson‘s face sagged into, hurt lines. “Not where it matters.” McGinty sighed. He‘d been around the walking dead for too long. His edges were too blunt. “You don’t understand. Gert…she’s safe in Virginia. She’ll never know what it’s like to live and die with nothing between her and the monsters. But folks out here…they know. But they ain’t got nowhere else to go. I turn my back on them, I’ll never know a moment’s peace for the rest of my life. Even with Gert next to me at night.” “I understand.” Larsson sighed, then straightened up, taking refuge in business. “I’ll send a squad with you to clean up those hills.“ The idea of ordering men around seemed to put Larsson on more familiar territory. McGinty nodded. “I appreciate that.” He turned to shake the man’s hand again, but a flash of green made him start. “What’s that you got there?” Before Larsson could answer, he reached into the captain’s coat pocket and pulled out a familiar battered green notebook. “That journal ain’t no dime novel. It needs to be burned, along with the rest of this man’s research.” His eyes darted from Larsson’s suddenly closed face, to the telegraph office, to the wagon on the horizon. “But you weren’t gonna burn anything, were you?” “I have my orders, Tim.” Larsson flicked back the hem of his captain’s coat, revealing an automatic Mauser 9 in a tooled holster. “I’m with the Elite Division, now.” McGinty swayed as if a heavy weight had just been swung into his face. He took a step back. “I didn’t reckon you were so big into politics, Drake.” “We all need something to believe in. You have Justice. I have the Governor General. Now, I’ll need that book back.” He held out his hand. “Don’t make this difficult, Tim.” They were no longer alone. Guardsmen were milling around, whispering amongst themselves. Several were carrying the telegraph man’s materials, but more had their hands free, ready to go for their guns or their swords, if they needed them. McGinty heard the shriek of a hawk somewhere high above, and wondered if it was a free bird, or one of the trained ones used by the Guard’s Austringer division. “You brought a lot of boys to clean up after me,” he said hoarsely. “No questions, no evidence.” The last few pieces clicked in his head, and McGinty felt like the ground was falling away beneath him. “The Lady…you asked her to send me.” “I told Mr. Mattheson that we used to be friends, and you might cooperate with me. It seems I made a mistake.” The Peacebringer was still in his hand. To McGinty, it was the only solid thing left in the world. “Looks like you ain’t the only one,” he said, and raised his gun. Something hard and hot hit him between the shoulders, and red pain tore through his chest. It knocked the legs out from under him, and McGinty spun and collapsed. The Peacebringer fell from his fingers. Lying on the ground, the world cocked at a crazy ninety-degree angle, he saw a tiny figure perched on the driver’s seat of the wagon, holding something long and gleaming. Then Larsson was there, blocking out the sun. His Mauser was no longer in its holster. “I’ll see that you get back to Richmond, Tim,” he said. McGinty smiled. “Much obliged, Drake.” The Mauser barked once, and none of it was his to worry about anymore. * * * WORD COUNT: 1414. I love going under the limit! INGREDIENTS: The Lazy Taxidermist, "Why don't you go back to Richmond?" NOTES: For once, this one just sort of spilled out over a few hours, and almost wrote itself. I'm trying something a little ambitious with these entries -- those who read my story from the previous round, "The Kid and The Reaper," can guess what it is. Nothing that requires as much attention as some form of continuity, but none of these entries will exist in a complete vacuum. Hope no one was too attached to the poor telegraph man from last time! Heh.
  4. So I was looking at the models that the guild has at their disposal and their 4ss models are pretty unmatched by any other faction. Has anyone tried massing Death Marshals and Witchling Stalkers? Maybe with an assisting model like the Withling Handler or some type of list similar to it? I was thinking that 5 or 6 Death Marshals could put some real hurt on someone. How about for a 30ss list? If anyone has tried it, I'd like to hear about the results! Thanks!
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