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Found 25 results

  1. Hi, I currently have the 2.0 Core Book and Under Quarantine (because I really like necromancers). I've only read the story from the Core Book so far and was wondering if the metaplot is available in other books, assuming there's an overall story that continues? Would I have to get some Malifaux books too? The story in the core book reads more like a summary of a bunch of storyline tournaments (this character does X, this other character does Y, this other character does Z, and none of them feel related to one another), but I might be wrong. I'm also a little confused by the Tyrants and the Grave Spirit, or the mythology, I guess.
  2. So I was playing a game yesterday (Gremlins Sommer Vs Archanists Kaeris) and my opponent had picked entourage as one of their schemes. They had flown Kaeris into the very corner of my deployment zone and then placed two pyre markers so that I couldn't get to her. Now being a long time fan of the pigapult I had also taken entourage with the intention of out activating my enemy and then catapulting Sami Lacroix into the deployment zone on turn 5. What I realized though is I could also deny my opponent all of there entourage points! By activating my gremlin crier I could use 'Gremlin Bureaucracy is the Worst Bureaucracy' cheating the 10 from my hand. This gives the 'This Makes no Sense' condition causing enemy models within 3' to not be counted for Schemes and Stratagy purposes. After which i activated the Pigapult. Sent Sami Deep into the enemy field and then catapulted the crier next to Kaeris preventing her from scoring! This turned what was a close game into a much larger VP gap!! Once I realized this potential combo I was keen to look into other potential applications of this pinpoint anti VP delivery system!! A few that come to mind are: The ability to suddenly change Reconoiter counts in any square of the board. (As the Gremlin Crier is unaffected by this makes no sense. So you can use it to deny a 3' bubble of enemy units while adding 1 of your own when determining table quarter) Denying Turf war points suddenly from the back field. Turning a Sceme Markers babysitter into a non scoring model deep in the enemy table half on the last turn (Protect Territory) Counteracting Breakthrough (As above) I would love to hear any other uses or story's of this strategy that people have come up with! Also I am curious how 'This makes no sense' interacts with Bodyguard as a sceme. Does the opponent fail bodyguard if the body guarded enemy is affected by 'This makes no sense'
  3. Saturday, Dec. 9th, Mali-food Story Encounter Food Drive Hero Complex — 2120 N Woodlawn Blvd # 314, Wichita, KS 67208 Schedule 10:30 AM - Registration 11:00 AM-1:15 PM - Round 1 - Holiday Shopping 2:00-4:15 PM - Round 2 - The Krampus is Watching! 4:30-6:45 PM - Round 3 - Christmas Caroling 7:00 PM - Prizes awarded This is a three-round event with an achievement league built in. Round 1: Holiday Shopping — Corner deployment; Schemes: Claim Jump, Eliminate the Leadership, Leave Your Mark, Set Up, Marked for Death Round 2: The Krampus is Watching! — Close deployment; Schemes: Claim Jump, Accusation, Undercover Entourage, Hidden Trap, Search the Ruins Round 3: Christmas Caroling — Blind** deployment; Schemes: Claim Jump, Dig Their Graves, Frame for Murder, Tail ‘Em, Inspection Entry donation is at least $5 or 10 non-perishable food items of at least 8 oz. that will be donated to The Kansas Food Bank. Your donation will earn you chips that can be used in-game as defined below, up to a maximum of 100 chips. For each food item, you will earn 2 chips; for each dollar, you will earn 3 chips. Extra chips will be awarded throughout the day for achievements and game play. Prizes Best Shopper, Best Krampus Hunter, Best Caroler, Best Painted holiday-themed model, Best Behaved, Most Achievements, plus door prizes Mali-food special rules Rules Game size - 50 soulstones* Strategies - as per the three Story Encounters Scoring - VP’s as per Story Encounter, Achievements Pre-Game • 1 Chip - Reflip your deployment flip • 2 Chips per SS - Buy one extra model to add to your crew, 5 SS max, at 2 chips per SS During the Game • 1 Chip - Reflip all of your starting cards in any duel • 2 Chips - Force your opponent to reflip their starting cards in any duel • 1 Chip - Reflip your half of initiative flip • 1 Chip - Once per game, return a spent soulstone to your soulstone pool • 3 Chips - Automatically win or lose initiative, spent before the flip. If your opponent chooses they can spend three chips to negate your win and turn it back into a contested flip. ChristmasAchievements.pdf ChristmasEncountersM2E.pdf
  4. Yesterday I played the first game of a 6 week campaign. It was Joss vs Candy playing Turf War. Joss came out on top 9-6 but Candy got the wandering relic. By the end Joss, Howard, the gunsmith (Percy), and metal gamin (Oliver) controlled the turf. Anyway here's One Man's Trash is Another Man's Battlefield One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Battlefield Joss crested the hill overlooking Junk Valley, a large ditch in the Wastelands that was mostly filled in with piles of scrap metal and spare parts. He began to look around for anything useful to the Arcanists. After all that’s what he came here for. With a number of loud clicks, clangs, and scrape of metal legs on metal the steamborg executioner, Howard Langston, clambered up the hill followed by Percival Grey and his trusty metal sidekick Oliver. “‘Ey boss.” Howard called out in his rough voice “What’re we even lookin’ for here? Ramos just told me we’re here to pick up supplies. Anything in particular?” “‘Re you blind Hank? This place is practically a gold mine! If we control these hills we’ll have enough resources to last us years!” Percy piped up, “There’s gotta be something worthwhile in here. Maybe something for Oliver.” The subsequent whistle of excitement from Oliver made the whole crew chuckle. “There are also rumors of a gun in these piles of scrap. If I remember correctly it’s name is Edict. I’m going to get my hands on it if at all possible. This old thing has served me well, but I think it’s time for an upgrade.” Percy looked down at the custom side arm on his hip. “If that rumor is going around all of Malifaux we’d better be prepared for a fight to keep it,” Joss said with his back to the group. Suddenly a high pitched, ethereal laugh rang through the air. “Neverborn,” Joss said with disdain “We can take ‘em,” growled Howard. Out of the corner of his eye Howard saw a small girl in a dress holding a basket. “Candy… This can’t be good” “Let’s go boys! Percy, you take the high ground,” he pointed up a tall pile of scrap. Howard smiled and skittered off towards the little girl as Percy clambered up the junk pile. When he reached the top he could see the whole yard. A woman in a black hooded coat with a rifle was standing just behind a smaller pile. “Angeleyes.” Percy growled knowing she had to be killed. His own personal hatred for the Neverborn was enough to put rage in his heart. In addition she had to be here for Edict. “Oliver! Find the gun!” The little construct started scrambling around looking for the gun. Joss smiled and charged towards the little girl with his arc axe raised high. Howard stood directly in front of Candy towering high over her. With a grin he let loose with a flurry of claws. With his first strike he slices across Candy’s chest and she falls. Pulling a small stone out of her basket she squeezes it to her chest and her wounds begin to heal. She looks up at Howard with large, innocent eyes and suddenly his metal heart softens and he stops. Candy’s look of pain and sadness turned into a grin of malice as she held up a hand to Howard and suddenly he found himself unable to control his own claws. “What? What’s goin’ on?” with a slash and a scrape howard embedded his own claw into his chest. He watched in horror as his other claw swiped at his neck but by sheer force of will he was able to hold it just inches away from it’s target. Seeing two ghostly green forms phase into view through the piles, Joss shot a blast of arcing energy towards the first Sorrow striking it in the chest. Angeleyes knew she had to find an optimal position to take out the steamborg monstrosity attacking Candy. As she climbed to she felt a searing pain in her shoulder as a bullet pierces her flesh. Black blood begins to pour from the wound as she looks to the origin of the shot. A young man crouched behind a stack of rubble was pointing a pistol in her direction. She lifted her rifle and loosed a shot back in his direction but it fell short and ricocheted off a metal plate in front of him. Percy smiled. His experimental razor shot had worked. He could see the blood running down her arm. He shot again but the bullet whizzed past her head. “Alright, Poppet. Playtime’s over.” Howard slashed at Candy and cut her down. Her small body fell to the ground unconscious but still breathing. When their leader fell the two sorrows were immediately on Howard, clawing at him with their ethereal talons barely making a dent in his armored legs. The gash in his side continues to bleed but his resilience is enough to keep him standing. With a resounding bang Angeleyes falls from a bullet to the thigh, the pain driving her into unconsciousness. Percy smiles thinking she’s dead. Suddenly with a green flash a sorrow is upon him clawing at his chest. He switched his gun to his left hand and drives a bullet through the spirit. It’s incorporeal form flickered and starts drifting away slowly. Not dead but badly wounded. Out of the corner of his eye Percy sees a horned figure with purple skin in regular clothes holding a shiny, glowing pistol. A bloodwretch that had been sneaking around the junkyard to find the very thing the neverborn were there for while the rest distracted the arcanist band. It began to run north through the Wasteland being chased by Langston, Joss, and Percy. Oliver trailed far behind as he was much slower than the rest. Eventually the trail of the bloodwretch went cold. “We should head back and collect the scraps we came here for,” Joss said begrudgingly. The party trudged off back to junk valley. Upon returning they found the bodies of Angeleyes and Candy had disappeared. “Where’d they go?,” Howard grunted after looking around the yard “They’re gone, Hank,” Joss sat on the discarded carapace of a Peacekeeper. “Doesn’t matter. We came here for the scrap not for the gun.” “We just need better equipment. It should be fairly easy to find. After all this junkyard is our turf. With our mechanical knowledge we can easily make something out of the materials here,” Percy said fiddling with the hammer on his pistol. “Yeah. You ‘n’ Doc Ramos can figure out how to use this crap,” Howard said pulling an old machete out of the pile to his right. “‘Ey I kinda like this” he chuckled The team gathered the best of the materials they could find. Percy and Joss began to tinker as Howard and Oliver began building a shelter. “We could stay here a while to make sure nobody takes anything else,” Howard suggested. “Like a kind of hideout.” “Not a bad idea Howard,” said Percy as he placed an arachnid resembling one belonging to Viktor Ramos. It gave a little whistle that resembled a bark. “Hey! It works!” a bit of the body fell off leaving a spot on it’s side. “I’ll call it… Spot,” Percy chuckles. The steam arachnid walked in a few tight circles before plopping down and rolling onto it’s back. “He’s like our own junkyard dog” Joss chuckled. Percy spoke up, “Well, one man’s trash…”
  5. Hey everyone so I noticed there's a severe lack of action shots of malifaux and we could definitely use more of them I had to take some with a friend for our next malifaux story encounter tournament. This is what we came. Up with I hope this inspired people to make their own and take shots like this. Panel 3 is still in work in progress I'll post once it's up
  6. Hello everyone we will be having our first story encounter tournament at the silver dragon tavern & games on August 6. The story encounter will be 3 rounds of a good team vs a evil team. Each round will pit good players vs evil players in a story driven mission. At the end of the day we'll have winning players and a winning team. The winning players will get prize support from the entry fees, while the winning team will get a small prize for having won the story encounter together. If you're not already part of our local group and wish to join just please let me know you will be joining us down bellow because I will be making special terrain pieces for each round and need to know if I must make more. Details: Location: Silver dragon tavern & games. 13754 N Kendall Dr, Miami, FL 33186 Date and time: Aug/06/2017 Sign up:11:00am Starting time:12:00am
  7. Hey everyone so we'll be hosting a story encounter tournament at my lgs. I need help coming up with something fun, that's the entire idea of this tournament. I need help with ideas and maybe experiences that you've guys had. We're not doing the rule book story encounters or anything that comes in boxes since it's they're pretty lack luster. My ideaIs to have an ongoing story throughout the rounds to have people interested in the story. Round 1: Jailbreak, two crews have infiltrated the malifaux city prison and received plans for the next big heist your goal is to extract your informant who was captured after passing on the plans Round 2: The heist, two crews have found and planned a big heist on a giant soul stones stash, your crew needs to steal the most stones before the guards are alerted. Round 3: get getaway, the Malifaux train is taking off and the guards are hot on your trail and the train is leaving get on the train and escape. This is the idea I have I'm open to other ideas as long as they're fun and thematic. The plan is to release comic book style advertisement for the event and heist blueprints.
  8. Hi all! I would love to know all the fluff from start to end, the reason I'm posting here, and please forgive me if this is dumb, I am wondering if there is a good order/ way to absorb it all? I know there's the books, the podcast, the newsletters. Do all of these contain the same stories or is it spread out between all of these media?
  9. We're starting a story driven Shifting Loyalties Campagin on June 1st, at the Spielebrücke e.V. (Ketzerbach 21 1/2, Marburg). Our regular meetings start at 1800, games will more often start at 1900. The campaign will have 6 campaign weeks, but every campaign week will be two weeks long. Every other week we'll announce the event, the story and the playable missions in our local forums and at the venue. For more information and to join the fun, please contact me here. There will be a small multiplayer scenario to start the campaign on the first of june so please be there if you want to join. The scenario will set the frame for the story and the rest of the campaign. Road's End - the sleepy saloon known far and wide for its bad food and music and the shady adventurers who stop there to get to the west. It is set between the Knotwood and the Ten Peaks, west of Slate Ridge. Some days ago the successful and infamous mercenary "Wildcat Hendricks", who had boasted about the rich payment from an unknown client about a week before, came back from his expedition to find a way to cross the Far Peaks. He was in a really bad condition - clothes torn, his whole body bruised and broken. In his hand he held a Soulstone, big as a man's fist with a pale purple glow. The customers and the innkeeper rushed to help him, but it was too late. Wildcat's last words were few and started an excited buzzing: "Farpoint... Three days west... Soulstones..." Now, a few days later, the rumour has spread all over Malifaux. A lot of shady adventurers, businessmen and criminials, in short, everybody interested in riches and power, have started expeditions to the unknown city. To find a good spot for your basecamp and to get some further information you've decided to go to Road's End and question the locals. But you are not the only one who has ben sent to find out more...
  10. (First off, I'm kinda new at writing stories so I'm hoping for feedback. If it's terrible, don't hesitate to say so. That being said, I hope you enjoy this first bit. If it goes well, I'll see about hashing out the second portion. I've already got a good bit written but it's kinda messy at the moment.) The early evening was calm. The fading light squeezed through the small, still trees at odd angles. Only the normal nocturnal sounds whispered around them. Leaves gave their sussurus in the occasional gentle breeze. Slowly waking insects chirrupped and clicked as their nature dictated. The two moons were snuggled close as they made their way through the night sky. The tall grasses swayed and the distant trees provided an even darker wall, penning in the farm. A young lady, barely more than a girl sat on a felled log and carefully pulled a violin up to her shoulder and rested her chin on the worn pad. Nearby a hulking shadow waited eagerly. It's form was bestial with wings and claws, a devlish nightmare in deep purple flesh. It seemed to tense and hold it's breath, it's attention fixed on the young violinist. Mika drew the bow slowly across the strings of her violin eliciting a sound that was both peaceful and yet cutting. Her face was locked into a mix of concentration and weary joy as she slowly began to weave in more notes and tones, the bow flickering in precise strokes. Her milky, blind eyes remained open and staring blankly into space as the music developed. Notes almost to deep for the small violin competed with tinkling, almost metalic counter points for this piece. The overall effect was a sort of exhausted sadness, a longing unfit for words, but wholly suited to music. She could hear the occasional chuff or grunt from Two-Note slowly calm and eventually transition into regular breathing, almost on the verge of sleep. She smiled sweetly and blew a stray strand of her blonde hair away from her nose as she continued playing. Two-Note was not a Nephilim normally given to reverie but Mika's playing was particularly melancholy today and he sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes and let the memories flood his senses. Almost three years ago, the day had been bright and the field where the humans were gathered was lush and green. The man, Mika's father, was reaching into a basket and lifting out small wrapped packages while the Woman, Mika's mother, was watching Mika. The young girl, had opened a case and was smiling as she tenderly lifted the instrument, a Violin it was called, to her shoulder and delicately held up a piece of wood with string attached to it. Two-Note had known and understood almost none of this as he watched the family from the treeline. All he had known at that moment is the humans were alone, apparently unarmed and would make a fine meal. Two-Note was anxious and could barely keep himself from darting out of cover and attacking these foolish humans. He was in a growth spurt and he was desperately hungry. He was hunkering down, preparing to launch himself forward when the strangest thing happened. The little one, began to draw the stick, the bow, across the strings of her Violin and a sound unlike anything Two-Note had ever heard came out. Even from a distance it was mesmerizing and wondrous. The little girl's face was locked into a visage of concentration and joy while her parents both stopped to watch and listen. Two-Note didn't even notice the tension bleeding away from his muscles, the pain of his growing bones fading and the hunger and anger flitting away. All he knew, all he focused on was the sounds, the music that Mika played. It was joy, it was passion, it was tender and raw. For a creature such as Two-Note, life was usually simple. He did not worry about most things other than feeding and sleep, but this...this was something else. He needed this more than anything he had ever known before. Mika's playing slowed and quietly finished as Two-Note began to return to the present. His memories filled him with conflicting emotions. Peace and confusion, passion and worry. It had been almost three years since he last sought out the company of other Nephilim. He had felt their calls dimming, the pull of the crusade to exterminate the invaders had faded. He still fed on occasion but he was exceedingly careful to do it far from the farm where Mika and her family lived. He took only enough to maintain his form, now fully grown, but normally willed into a shape more useful for staying concealed and careful. A long, slow breath escaped him as Mika began packing up her Violin. Mika's mother called out from the farm house that dinner was ready and Two-Note knew it was time to begin his nocturnal routine. He had taken it upon himself to patrol this area, to keep it safe and clear from any who would harm this precious gift. He knew, deep down, that this was wrong for a Nephilim. These invaders should be his enemy and yet he...well he could not say he cared, but he had a fierce need for the music. He had killed others for attempting to upset his carefully cultivated position and he would likely do so again and again if it meant he got to listen to Mika's playing. His form shivered and began to concentrate down. He was shrinking himself back into a less noticeable appearance, more able to pass for a human. He was no changeling and he could never go among them in the blazing light of day but he could approximate. He willed himself to appear as Mika's father. Broad of shoulder with a deep chest. Long, muscled arms with large work-worn hands. A tall, head capped with deep brown hair in a widow's peak. Two-Note could not do the mustache though, facial hair was a mystery to him. The man's temperament further confused him. For a human he was powerfully built and obviously commanded respect from the workers and adoration from his family and yet he never had to maintain order, to fight for dominance. Two-Note shrugged, a human expression he had picked up, and realized there were things about these humans he would never understand. Two-Note wrapped the coat, a duster the humans called it, around his form. He did not need the warmth but it helped to conceal what parts of his form he could not easily change. He placed the broad-brimmed hat on his head, better to shade his face and cover his small, deep-purple horns. While Mika may be blind, none of the other humans at the farm were and they would surely raise the alarm if they saw him for what he was. With one last glance towards Mika as she carefully made her way towards the farmhouse, he set off into the darkening light. A few sniffs and he was already on the scent of something that did not belong. It seems there were a few young ones, terror tots the humans called them, in the area. Doubtless hungry and thinking they had found an easy meal but they had made a dreadful mistake. They should have easily been able to sense Two-Note and to realize this was his territory, his hunting ground. Flesh was flesh and Two-Note would feast well tonight. Two-Note awoke three hours before dusk. He was groggy from feasting too well. He had come upon the tots after they had just taken down a transient on the outskirts of Fortune Falls. He gave no warning and let forth no cry, killing in silence. It was a matter of moments before the four tots were down. Together with the transient they made for a large meal and Two-Note had slept deeply, sure that this had been the only threat in the area. Around the town of Fortune Falls there was always smoke in the air. The small factories belched out their machine smoke, cook fires tempted him and all manner of other fires, great and small burned. But this smoke was coming from outside of town, it was coming from the farm. Two-Note raced towards his oasis, towards his pseudo-home. Worry and anger competed to give speed to his headlong rush.
  11. On Saturday, December 3rd, Knight Watch Games in San Antonio will host 'December's Wrath' a Malifaux game day. 12:00pm -9pm Demos and free play will be available all day (free play as space permits). A one round Enforcer Brawl will kick off at 1:00pm for up to 8 players. Bring your favourite Enforcer with up to one upgrade and throw down in an arena style free for all. Winner gets Guilders! At 4:00pm, we will kick off the Story Encounter 'December's Wrath' - Seamus has decided to ruin Christmas in Malifaux by gifting all of the bad children with the gift of unlife to offer them as a present to Miss Molly Squidpidge. Rasputina swoops in on a cold wind to stop the cunning killer and deliver her own icy punishment to the little buggers. No models required, or bring your own crews and play out the scenario. See you there!
  12. I was curious because I was in the story tournament Adepticon 2016 on Sunday and I know that I was not one of the first through third place finishers but I was curious if anybody had their rankings to find out where I actually did place in the field?
  13. So wyrd has been doing some pretty great stories. Many compliments. But there is so much left to go. The world has so many characters. Not all can get screen time. I hope you agree with me that name-dropping is about the coolest thing about wyrd fluff. The feeling of reading about walking amongst legends is what I love. Please keep doing that. So I leave this here because I want you all to post characters you would like to read more about. wyrd needs to see what you guys want. Let's see them.
  14. Hello all I am reading all the TtB stuff I could get my hands on and I had an idea for a story pop into my head (yes I'll be the Fatemaster). Decided to not work it out completely yet and keep reading first. And as I'm a firm believer of "several minds are better then one" I'm gona post the idea here. Hoping you give me some insights or even expand on it or use it yourselves. _____________________________ Some people came through the breach to try and make a better life for themselves. This all seemed to work at first. They had a small group, went into the wilds and set up a frontier town. With all the trouble that goes with it. But they got cheated out of their belongings and control of the town by some one (I'd go for a normal human, not some Malifaux monster, humans are evil enough to be antagonists. Maybe just Guild). The good townsfolk were forced to leave their homes after loosing everything. And they starved and froze to death in the wilds. Some Neverborn caught wind of this and took control of their misery, turning them so they have to relive the nightmare of loosing everything and starving over and over. So you get a Guild controled frontier town that gets wiped out by nightmare Neverborn, who then get thrown back out and go through their own personal hell and die ... again. These nightmare Neverborn look human though and they don't know they are Neverborn. And the cycle continues. The players have to figure out the problem and take on the big controling Neverborn to make the cycle end. So there has to be something near the town to make it worthwhile for the Guild to want to go back there over and over. Sending fresh Through the Breach frontiersman that work the town till it gets wiped out again might not cost the Guild much but eventually word will get out. Maybe this can be a second campaign. The first being that all the fated characters are the first frontiersmen that go through all the pains of establishing a frontier town. Fight some local wild life, fight off some outlaws, keep Guild from taking over town a few times, ... But in the end they lose it in the big finale. Enter the second campaign, fresh Fated Characters that don't know s*it about Malifaux but the players will know exactly what happened. This can then be their first story (or first few) in the campaign. This time they could be Guild investigators even. So, any thoughts?
  15. Sorry if this is already a thread, I saw there was that one about Wong up fairly high, but I think most threads revolve around actually using models in game and their crew building. I'm more curious about his story, or what he's doing. It's a fairly open question, but I'm just curious what he's about, or from whence he came? He clearly uses magic, but how did that come about? My other more broad curiosity is about Faction X Arcanist crossovers, namely the notion that anything that can cast spells might be related to Arcanist. Is this how people generally view the Arcanist Faction, as the primary "Casters"? The alternative, that I subscribe to (Which better explains why Wong would not be Arcanist), is that Arcanist happen to be comprised of many mages, but represent more of an ideal or mentality, a group bound more by shared interest than vestment in the arcane. Does this seem reasonable, or is there a good reason Wong could be theoretically clumped into Arcanist? I'm just curious what the defining trait why or why not a model might be partially woven into the Arcanist (Other than purely that being their design), and the general story around Wong and any connection he has to magic or the Arcanist (Does he like them, hate them?). Thanks for the know how, half-stock-green-kin.
  16. From the album: Geekopolis 2015

    Friday 13th at the GEEKOPOLIS CONVENTION!
  17. Where: Myriad Games 1525 S Willow St, Manchester, NH 03103 When: Oct 28th, 2014 @ 6pm What: 2 custom story encounters (1 may be the Carver story from the new Crossroads Malifaux book) Prizes will be Halloween themed, but the point of this event is to play and have fun. If you have any special requests or ideas feel free to PM me. The 6pm start will allow for longer rounds as the story scenarios will have quirky rules meant to challenge your skirmishing skills. We will be done by 10:30/11pm (store close time). The games will be 50ss, with standard hiring rules, but strategies and schemes will obviously be altered from standard. Looking forward to seeing people at Myriad Tuesday for some Malifaux fun. P.S. If you have a carver model please bring it.
  18. Ingredients- Character: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing Item: An Incomplete Deck of Cards Word Count- 1750 The Searchers The pattern of blood upon the snow was almost beautiful; as striking as it was revolting. Like a blossoming flower, scarlet streaks fanned out from a pristine epicenter. The man stooped in the eye of the flower lifted the crimson frost to his tongue and then broke the silence. "Within the past half of an hour." Crouching on his haunches, the burly man kept his grizzled, bearded face cast down, so that only the wolf pelt hat peered up at the rest of the party. His bulk was composed of layers of buckskins and unwashed flannel beneath the fur - there was not ladle full of lard spread across the gaunt outdoorsman's frame. "Hoarcats drag him off?" The Death Marshal asked. "Not likely." "Why not?" "Way the blood's spilt, 'e was et right here." "You sure 'bout that, wolf-hunter," the marshal asked, "I don't see no bones nor clothes." "Sure, I'm sure," the scout said, "gobbled 'em up, every last bit. Lupescar ain't never wrong." He cast a sparkling glance at the woman nervously fingering her Collier revolver just behind the lawman. "Waste not, want not, eh, my cherie?" Sorsha consciously drew her hand from her pistol and willfully suppressed the chill creeping up her spine. 'Blood, she was accustomed to, having spilled her fair share with her pistol, and even drawn some with her Brahk blade, but this? This was no way for a man to die. Granted, the slain muleteer was more beast than man. A pig, who was ever gazing on her with heavy lidded eyes, making suggestive comments. This mountain man, Lupescar, too, had the habit of licking his lips when he deigned to speak to her, like he was anticipating his next meal. Most of the time, he didn't bother to give her the time of day. That suited her just fine, and the Guildsmen treated her with decency, if not quite equality. There was also the girl from the wagon train to converse with, strange as she was. Underdressed for the season, Sorsha had given the young woman her own coat, while she had cut a hole in an extra wool blanket and tied it at the waist to form a poncho. Sorsha could not fail to notice that the men hadn't offered any polite solutions to keep the girl warm. "We women have to look out for each other," Sorsha told the girl as she wrapped her coat around her. The girl had stumbled into town several days ago, this lost teenager with pale skin, frightened, staring eyes and coatless to tell them all about the fate of the settlers who ventured into the Western reaches beyond the badlands. The tale she told was a familiar one, though no less dreadful for the repetition. The party was three days out of Fortune Falls when the first traveler vanished. The assumption was that they had turned back. On the following day, when an entire wagon carrying a family disappeared, the outriders backtracked to find it abandoned, with no sign of the occupants. A meeting was held on whether to turn back, but with three days left to go to reach their land claims, there was nothing for it, but to forge ahead. It was on the final night that the attack came, A massive assault by hordes of gibbering creatures from the darkness. In the confusion of the battle, the girl was separated from the party and found herself, two days later, on the trail back to town. In hopes of finding other survivors, Marshal Hancock gathered four guardsmen, a pathfinder, a muleteer to carry supplies, and a mercenary to round out the numbers; all that the town could spare. Truth was, nobody else was stupid enough, nor desperate enough, to go. Sorsha was determined that she wasn't going to suffer the same fate as the mule driver. "And you didn't see anything up ahead? Marshal Hancock regarded Lupescar through narrow eyes. "Didn't say that," the pathfinder said. "Saw plenty. Just no sign of what did this." "You shooting straight me, Lupescar?" "What might you mean, Marshal?" "I mean, are you leading us into a trap?" Sorsha expected a clever quip from the trapper, but he met Hancock's accusation with a silent scowl. "Fine," the Death Marshal said. "We'll continue on to the the site of the attack, but I want you in view at all times, Lupescar." He turned to Sorsha. "We can't afford to lose any more supplies. You guard the rear, Merc. And watch the girl." He regarded her for a moment. "Can you handle that, missy?" She wanted to tell him, "Hell no!" She wanted to head back to town, rather than end up dinner for whatever was out here. But her debt to the Guild hung over her like an executioner's axe, and she couldn't think of any other way. "I can handle it." He held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to the pathfinder. "I feel like I'm playing poker with half a deck. And it ain't the half with the face cards." Lupescar finally broke his silence. "I suppose that makes me the joker." "Could be," Hancock said. "Question is, which one?" Sorsha dreaded the idea of heading recklessly into peril, but what could she do? She owed the Guild money for bringing her through the Breach, to escape her abusive husband. Now she was beholden to the Guild and the Governor. Had her fate played out differently, she might have been one of those unfortunate women on the street, paying off the Guild by selling her favors to strangers. But being a fair shot with the pistol she took when she left her husband,she had opportunities open to her. And once you've shot one man, the rest are a good sight easier. Was she truly better off than the doxies one saw hanging from the windows of the bordellos back in Malifaux City? She'd be lying to herself if she said she was. Either way, she was splitting hairs, her fate was not her own. "They don't respect you." They had been traveling half a day, and the sun was pale and distant in the noon day sky. An aloof voyeur, remotely curious about the fate of those below. Sorsha was surprised; the girl hadn't spoken more than a handful of words since she first related her story two days back. "They treat you worse than the pack animals." "I could care less, so long as they pay me better." "You care. Anyone would." She gave Sorcha a smile that mimicked kindliness, but there was a vacancy behind it. "You'd have to have a heart of ice not to." "Listen kid..." "Tina." "Tina. Look. Everybody's got to make a buck. I'll put up with these cowboys only so long as I have to." "What if you didn't have to?" "What's that supposed to mean?" But the girl didn't respond, and Sorsha let it drop. They travelled on in silence. That night, when she went to relieve Guardsman Fletcher and serve the last watch before dawn, she found him asleep and snoring. "Hey, wake up," she hissed. "You're lucky I couldn't sleep." Fletcher grunted something in rude reply and roused himself to his feet, stumbling from the glow of the fire, to the darkness beyond where his bedroll waited. Sorsha laughed to herself as she heard him stumble and grunt, as he fell heavily to the ground. She listened as he clumsily pulled out some rations and slowly and noisily ate them. A disgusting wretch, to chew so loudly. He ignored her chastising shush and continued, steadily and belligerently. The tedious smack, smack, smack drove her to distraction until the sky grew grey with first light. It was a blessing that the sight that met her stole her breath away so she couldn't scream. There, hanging over a limb above the camp, was what remained of Fletcher's body, with its steady drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the rock below with a smack. Hancock debated sending anyone out in advance of the party, but finally acquiesced, sending Sorsha with Lupescar to scout ahead, conveniently ridding himself of both problems. Sorsha wasn't sure what she dreaded more, finding what was stalking them, or being alone with Lupescar. What she did know, was that she did not want to go. Hancock wanted her gone, though, after her careless watch the night before. Did it really matter though, when they were vulnerable anywhere? What puzzled her as she trailed behind the pathfinder was, why had the creature spared her? Lupescar stopped short and turned to her. "The tracks end here. " "Let's head back then." "What's the rush?" Lupescar loomed over her. "We can have some time together." "Stay clear of me, or I swear..." The sudden scream broke the tension. Both of them broke into a run. As they approached the camp, they found a swirling blizzard obscuring the search party. Screams and gunshots illustrated the action where dim figures moved in the blinding snow. Child-sized figures with oversized heads, translucent in the filtered light and dripping with icicles, leapt up in their path as they ran. The mist and snow diminished towards the epicenter of the battle to reveal Marshal Hancock, one foot propping open a coffin, one fist grabbing Tina by the hair. Around him, like the scattered playing cards of a bad hand, were the bodies of the remaining guardsmen. "Get in there you witch! "Hancock, what the blazes are you doing?" Lupescar cried. "Something that would have saved us a heap of trouble if I hadn't been such a damn fool," he grunted,"she's been behind this from the beginning!" Something huge, horned and terrible loomed over the mountain man. He bleated a plaintiff cry as it devoured him like a sheep being slaughtered. "Don't stand there gaping, you useless cow," Hancock shouted at Sorsha, "shoot the damn thing!" On reflection, Sorsha could never be sure what surprised her more, her lack of hesitation, or her lack of remorse, as she smoothly raised her pistol and fired, neatly placing a bullet between Hancock's eyes. The death marshal released the girl as his body tumbled over the coffin. After a moment's silence, the ice creatures turned away and shambled towards the hills. "Now, what am I going to do?" Sorsha said to herself. Tina walked over the bloody snow to the mercenary and handed back her coat. "You come with me," she said.
  19. Hi all, Has anybody made a list of the stories in chronological order? I was thinking of reading through everything this summer and I wanted a bit of a guide. It would be amazing if there were a list of the characters that appeared in each as well, so you could track individual journeys. I know that there was talk of a wiki a while back. Did that ever happen? Thanks! David
  20. My first entry. I hope it's enjoyable if nothing else! C&C welcome of course :-) WC: 1500 on the nose so it is long. ______________________________________________________________________ The Demon-Barber Sonnia Criid surveyed the abandoned railyard. From her position atop a ruined station house the cold Autumnal wind was almost biting her cheeks as she glanced over the enclosure. “Not even Winter yet” she muttered to herself, not particularly fond of the cold evenings. On the horizon the setting sun shone though faded October leaves and were complemented by patinas of rust prevalent throughout the abandoned station. No one came here anymore. No one sane or living anyway. “It is here misstresss…” gasped a squat, cowled creature which had stalked up next to Sonnia. The being, a former witch stripped of its heretical magics purified by Sonnias flames, then bound by occult Guild rituals, was one of the three servants which accompanied her on the clandestine operation. Their magic was now devoted to suppressing the powers of witches and more specifically, sniffing out their lairs. “Spread out and move quietly” ordered Sonnia as she climbed down the station house into the railyard. By the time she had dusted herself off from the descent, the Stalkers had already scurried ahead, silent, seeking, hunting for any trace of her prey. Looking around the orange and steel environment, the Criid recalled the disturbing rumours. The most credible spoke of some diabolical hybrid of steel and flesh infused with alchemy, soulstones and a thirst for blood. The victims had all been found scalped - the very tops of their heads savagely cleaved off like the shell of a hard boiled egg. Those victims who were found alive could only gibber in horror before succumbing to blood loss, pain and shock. The unfortunate civilians finding the remains fared little better until eventually the Guild interrogators deciphered something from a deranged witness; “Demon-Barber.” Such names were often fanciful - the ‘Bayou Butcher’ after all turned out to be an actual gremlin butcher of pigs not some homicidal serial killer – but Sonnias preternatural instinct and the work of her Stalkers had assured her that this ‘Barber’ was a real threat to the inhabitants of Malifaux. What sounded like a low wuthering Autumn breeze beside Sonnia were the three servants returning from their reconnoitre. “Thisss way…” hissed one in a soulless monotone as it gestured with one of its heavy blades. There was no respect with the witchlings. No loyalty or camaraderie. Just pure, unadulterated servitude to Sonnia. This would probably have unnerved a lesser person but not Sonnia Criid; ‘Witchunter’, ‘Scourge of Sorcerers’ and the most recently peoples-appointed ‘Guild Guardian’ of Malifaux. She hated those names. Fanciful titles with no real meaning. Unlike the precocious Lady Justice whom the people saw as their champion, Sonnia preferred to be as anonymous as possible. Fewer attachments, less hassle and more often the element of surprise. Surprise. Sonnia knew its power. Blowing down a door with a burst of flame and striding in only to point a gun at a suspected deviant dabbling with dark powers (who by then had usually wet themselves), often shook their resolve and they could be captured bloodlessly for trial. But against this ‘Demon-Butcher’ machination there could be no such advantage. Skulking through the debris of ruined rails, girders and the skeletons of disused train carriages with the Witchlings close beside her, Criid stopped, silently holding up a hand. The Stalkers paused in synchrony and drew their pistols. Sonnia smelled blood, it’s unfortunately familiar coppery tinge to the air was tempered with putrefaction. The stalkers turned their heads and she heard an unnatural ‘sniffing’ sound come from beneath their hooded faces. One pointed with its pistol towards a mound of debris, a pile of rusted, crumbling train wheels, each about eighteen inches in diameter. Creeping closer Sonnia unsheathed her sword. Forty-three inches of tempered steel, sharpened to perfection on a soul-infused whetstone and carved with runes of conflagration, immolation and banishment. The secrets of the runes were only known to few within the guilds armourers. It was the exemplar on which the Stalkers own rune-swords were based. Though unlike Sonnias’, they were as close to ‘mass produced’ as any magical sword could be and thus not as powerful, though this was in small part compensated by the fact that each Stalker carried a pair. One of the Stalkers approached the pile sniffing as it did so. Reaching the stack of wheels it peered at one that appeared embedded in the ground. Lifting it up the scent of rotting meat assailed Criids’ nostrils as the concealed stash was revealed. Suppressing a dry cough brought on by the nauseous contents, Criid edged closer slowly, for the stench was horrific. She dispelled darkness of the hole was a minor flare emanating from her hand which gently bobbed down into the pit like an orange will-o-wisp. The flickering light revealed a crimson slicked pile of sodden tufts, like patches of grass pulled up from a field. Some were impaled on the wall of this shaft by rail spikes, others by what appeared to be sharpened ribs. What she saw before the light fizzled away was enough to confirm that the Demon-Barber’s lair was nearby. A mixture of fear-tinged excitement coursed through Sonnia, adrenaline sharpening her senses and tightening the grip on her rune-blade, the soulstones in it’s pommel glinting in the nearly set Sun. A slight tinkle of metal, like a pin hitting a tile, caused the quartet of hunters to spin about. Nothing. Criids bright green eyes squinted, analysing the direction of the sound for the slightest indicator of movement. Suddenly it emerged. Thirteen feet of flesh and metal, stitched and stapled together. Tubes connecting various harvested organs together and pumping a vile necromantic ichor around it’s body. It’s left hand ended at a stump upon which tubes and bolts connected what appeared to be a large, blood stained and rusted straight-razor to it’s ‘arm’. It’s ‘eyes’ were embedded, unrefined soulstones, glinting with foul energies which looked at the hunters. With a sharp grating sound the straight razor blade flicked out and the thing lunged at the party. Criid skipped back, easily avoiding the blade which swooped over the head of the nearby Witchling. Gripping her sword and pulling energy from one of the soulstones she conjured a column of flame to engulf the beast. Skin crackled and the stench of burned flesh filled her nose. The Stalkers pressed the attack firing shots from their pistols. All three hit their mark but seemed to do little to halt the burning monster. A dull roar emerged from the stitched orifice that served as a mouth and it swung a meaty open arm towards the nearest Stalker. The diminutive creature flew into the pile of wheels as the beast connected, the flickering flames in its eyes growing dull as it’s crumpled corpse scattered the metal discs around the trainyard. Blinded by its fury and its smouldering flesh the Demon-Barber lurched in a wild frenzy. Sonnia focused her mind calling forth an even more intense blaze ready to immolate this monster. The remaining two Witchlings, unbothered by the demise of their companion, fought to buy their mistress time to cast her spell. They ran at the Barber with their dual blades hacking at its meaty legs. Each blow made a dull ‘thwack’ while black, resinous ichor oozed out of the superficial wounds, thickening on contact with the air to seal the wounds. Unfazed the Barber snatched one of the Witchlings by the head and threw it at Sonnia. It took all of her resolve not to move and loose her focus despite seeing that the living missile would miss her by a factor of mere inches. The remaining Stalker took advantage of the opening and forced both it’s blades upwards into the beasts exposed torso, both blades simultaneously piercing its leathery piecemeal hide. It emitted a low groan of pain from its partially stitched mouth as it tried to swipe at the Stalker with it’s blade only managing a glancing blow which knocked the being prone. Seizing her chance Criid unleashed the pyrokinetic energies coursing through her, consuming another of the stones on her blade which channelled the power. Green eyes blazed red and her auburn hair whipped upwards with coruscating forces as an intense wave of flame rushed towards the Barber. Almost white hot, the damp Autumn air hissed as the torrent manifested, the earth scorched beneath the billowing holocaust until impacted the creature. Even the tattered robes of the nearby Stalker began to smoulder in the heat. Criid could hear it’s skin blister and crackling like that of a roast pig as she continued to press the energies into the monster. Pain surged across her cheeks from gritting her teeth in concentration. She could not see for the heat haze, smoke and dust that billowed around the three combatants. Until finally, slumped onto one knee, all but exhausted from her exertions, she stopped. “Mistresss?” hissed the Stalker. “Home.” said Criid, walking towards the setting Sun as the charred ash of the Barber’s remains began to disperse in the wind.
  21. Hi Folks, This may not be the right forum for this so please direct me to where I should be if I'm in err... I'd like to develop a system that lets Crews progress from one Encounter to another in a linked way, i.e. damage suffered in one Encounter bleeds (sorry) over to another... Perhaps not literally in terms of wounds but something along the lines of a character taken out of action might have to flip on a Damage Table to see what happens? Because Malifaux is such a heavily based character game I don't want to mess with stats. That just gets unwieldy and leads to no good... I would like to design a fun way for Crews to play from one Encounter to the next in an evolutionary style... perhaps gaining Soulstones along the way and using them to hire new Crew or pay off old debts... Along the way it is inevitable that some of the Crew will not make it back... Fate and Fortune. If anyone thinks this would be fun and like to help kick some ideas back and forth, either over the forums or PM please let me know. I've got a bit of a start on this already and would love to share. Cheers! D
  22. I think it would be cool for someone to wright a short story about a card game between Zordia and Lynch. I don't have the skills, nor the time, to wright a short story, but I would love to see this encounter in malifaux come to life.
  23. Hi everyone! Before you continue, here's the disclaimer: I'm not a henchmen, so if there are specific rules that henchmen must follow in order to organize an event like the one I am about to discuss, I apologize for my lack of knowledge. That being said, I'd appreciate any helpful hints/tips/ideas/strategies that you all can come up with in order to make this happen. Here's the idea: With the few players in our group (we have about 6), we decided that after completing our first official league, we would try and move on from the beginners achievements, and move into something a lot more epic. Each player has his/her own Malifaux map, with their name starting at a specific point. Each week the henchmen of our group will text/email each of us specifically telling us of our objective for our next game. When our scheduled day comes around to play, we quickly go over what story elements have happened during the week and we find out who our opponent is. We battle for specific rewards (bag of SS to be used for our next game, VPs to add up to the league-end prizes, mercenary's loyalty in game, etc...). Now, my questions are...who do I go about contacting in order to make sure I'm able to print/laminate/distribute the Malifaux maps to our players? I know its on the website for free to download, but I just want to make sure that I don't get in trouble when I could do something simple in order to avoid it. Also, what elements do you all think would be interesting to add? We plan on having storyline encounters/random events etc.. being intervened in the league, but what else could we do to make this more fun? We're at about 6 players strong in our group, and we want to grow. If you all need more info, just ask and I'll try my best to answer, like I said earlier, I'm not the henchmen, but I'm trying to make his life easier and get more into the game, rather than just being a player. Thanks everyone! I haven't been here long, but I already love the Malifaux/Wyrd community, you guys are always so extremely nice
  24. Ok guys, so heres a short story i decided to write around the mythical character Spring-heeled jack. Upon the first opening of the Breach, there was a certain gentlemen, from London of origin, who traveled to the Breach as a trader, traveling directly into Malifaux and operating trading roots and making deals with other such traders. On the closing of the Breach, something had changed in him. Perhaps the first signs of the Neverborn, or just some magical accident, he left the Breach a different man, ravaged by magic and madness, possessed by some beast within. As he had entered in a top hat and suit, on his exit they were torn and muddy. Few saw him in this state, and those he did sent officers to find him and worked out what happened, but none returned. Years later in London few people claimed they heard a menacing laugh and saw brief glimpses of a man dressed in a battered black top hat and a tattered suit leaping across rooftops with impossible agility. The people reported these sightings were found days later dead, killed by what seemed to be claws. This menace they named Spring-heeled Jack, due to his amazing ability to leap across rooftops and he was the terror of London.The biggest image they can draw of him is a tall man with a scruffy beard and and a tattered suit and top hat but no shoes. both his toenails and fingernails have grown unnaturally long and they are his primary attack method. He killed many people, he was no assassin it would seem he just killed for the fun of it. On the reopening of the Breach, Jack was drawn to Malifaux like moth to flame. He now plagues the streets of Malifaux, like he did with London, killing anyone unlucky enough to pass by his territory.
  25. I was writing a... well, a fan-fiction for Malifaux, and I realized I wasn't quite sure where exactly the Breach was. I looked through the rulebook, but I couldn't find any definite answer. Did I miss it or is it still shrouded in speculation and secrecy?
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