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ScrewedUpDice

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  1. Very much delayed, and horribly formatted (thanks iPhone) here's my piece http://wyrd-games.net/community/topic/99819-iron-quill-the-hunt-the-glorious-dead/
  2. London Necropolis Cemetery, Brookwood, Surrey, England 6th February, 1901. The Necropolis Railway train pulled into Cemetery Station at quarter past the hour. From the first and second class carriages mourners alighted onto the platform, all dressed in sombre black. Some compartments remained closed; private parties attending a funeral, the coffin to be carried to the grave site once the crowds had cleared. At the rear of the train the cemetery workers began unloading the packed-in coffins of the poorer citizens, whose cadavers had been stacked in the carriages like firewood. Beyond the station the cemetery was covered in snow; the same flurry that had graced the Queen's burial days before, miles to the north in Windsor. The Gentleman stepped from the train, taking in the bustle of the platform. Cemetery Guards stood around the station and clergymen moved slowly through crowds, white robes marking them out amidst the throng. Nearby a young boy had escaped the watchful eye of his governess, and was prodding at one of the Ætheric Detectors mounted on the station wall. A common sight in large cemeteries since the Black Powder Wars, when Resurrection magic had proved to be usable Earthside, the Detectors supposedly provided the Guards, whose Company had been incepted at the same time, early warning of any such magic being worked in the vicinity. The Empire's war dead marching on the capital was a threat no one wished to face. That the Devices were of no use in Malifaux was a continued bane to the Guild, if the outlandish stories in the papers were to be believed. The governess finally caught sight of her charge's actions, and moved to seize him by the ear, contempt written across her face. "That's a scientific instrument, not a child's toy!" The ensuing lecture fell behind the Gentleman as he left the station. The ride from Necropolis Station at Waterloo had given him plenty of time to study the map of the cemetery, and he threaded his way along the paths toward the Memorial. The rest of the journey he'd spent pondering the wisdom of obeying the clandestine summons he'd been sent, as he had for the last three days, as he'd travelled south. He'd thought himself free of this life. Paranoia and curiosity warred within him. "In memory and honour to all those brave souls lost beyond this world, in the collapse of the Breach Of The Great Boundary. December 1797" The same words, or one expressing similar sentiment, were engraved upon memorials around the world. Visitors to more recently settled territories remarked of the sense of strangeness the absence of these markers evoked. The papers had spent many a column debating a petition to the Guild to erect a monument in Malifaux herself. The names on the surrounding plaques were faded by over a hundred years of English weather. The Gentleman knew that his Great-Grandfather's name was inscribed on one of the long rolls; lost in Malifaux, leaving a wife and child behind in old London. The crunch of shoes on the gravel path broke his reverie, announcing the arrival of his mysterious contact. "The Empire is losing more people in Malifaux every day." William Melville's Irish accent had faded since he and the Gentleman last spoke, rubbed away by his time in London, and the company he kept. The Gentleman still recognised him without looking in his direction. "The Empire is in the habit of losing people. I fancied myself quiet lost until three days ago." "You were, quiet convincingly so. Had events not required it, you would be yet." "indeed." The Gentleman turned to face Melville. "The how of that first, if you'd be so good. Then I'll hear out the why." The head of Special Branch gestured with his cane. "Let's walk a way." "Do your officers know where we are headed?" The Gentleman nodded towards three men evidently watching them from the amid the wandering mourners. . Melville ignored the question, turning on his heel and setting off on a path through the headstones. "We found you, in part because some people don't stop looking, even for a corpse. There's been a formal watch for you since your "death". Not that anything substantial was ever found. There was ample time to dig into your past though. In more detail than the recruiters did. Enough of use was found that a practitioner was able to find you. Two 'Stones and his life later and here we are." "The Guild approved that, did they?" "The Secretary of Ætheric Affairs is entirely ignorant of the matter." "And did your practitioner know he was going to his death? Did he overstretch, or does secrecy over my return from the grave necessitate the filling of others?" The Gentleman's voice was frosty, although his body language betrayed none of this, maintaining the poise of a man of a sorrowful aspect, as befitted his garb and surrounding. Melville ignored the barbed question, and the Gentleman felt his old feelings of mingled dislike and respect for the man rekindled. The voice of a priest drifted towards them over the snow, officiating at a funeral in the other section of the cemetery. Beside the two men row upon row of graves were filled with the Empire's soldiers, statues commemorating the conflicts they'd fought and died in. "So that's the how. The why must be dire to warrant such measures." "You served the Queen's Empire once. Will you serve the King's?" "It was never that simple." "The oath of service is simple enough for the common soldier." The Gentleman paused, forcing Melville to halt as well. "The common soldier litters the ground six foot under the snow all around us, William. Every grave holds a man who died having said those words. Shot, stabbed, strangled, starved, or shipped back here to die of his wounds." He tipped his chin towards the memorial stood amid the graves, celebrating the lives of those who fought in the Black Powder Wars, then pointed towards those marking other actions that had expanded the Empire. "The oath bought them little. Those made to serve and those who went willingly, buried just the same." Melville had been growing visibly angrier during the Gentleman's speech. "Their oaths, proudly given, bought the Empire glory, and its continued existence." "Aye." The Gentleman interrupted before Melville could work up a full head of steam. "We scramble to the top of the heap, to stand upon the shoulders of the valiant dead. Our forefathers amongst them. We paint a quarter of the map red with the blood lost winning it, for Britannia. I do not dispute the necessity of safeguarding the Empire, only the need to veil it under disassembling about glory and honour. There is none of that to be found on a battlefield, and less in our bloody work of whispers and knives." The Gentleman started to walk again. "Every man I killed for the Empire was a murder of necessity. The only death I took pleasure in was my own." "You and many others, no doubt." Melville's patience was growing increasingly short. He abandoned the argument for direct questioning: "Will you serve the King's Empire? It has need of you despite your efforts to persuade us otherwise." "I'll serve the Empire again, but for necessity, not the lie of glory or honour. What part do I need to play to keep this island afloat?" "We need you to head through the Breach." "There are easier ways to kill me than that, surely." "There are. Steam velocipedes are a notoriously hazardous way to travel." The Gentleman kept his surprise well concealed. Special Branch had clearly used the short time they'd known his whereabouts well. The threat was expected,though. A soldier might face the firing squad for desertion, a spy faced far less obvious forms of execution. "How up-to-date are you with current affairs?" "I've enjoyed my isolation." "The situation for the Empire is dire." "Although I did not say I was wholly ignorant. The situation for the Empire is always dire." Melville shot him a look laced with venom. The Gentleman shrugged it off;he'd had worse from better. "Carry on as though I were ignorant,though." "The Secretary of Ætheric Practices is restricting our supply of Soulstones. Requests are being summarily turned down. Other sources are also failing us." "And not all branches of the Government can magic up Soulstones off the books as and when they need them." "Enquiries suggest that the Guild is unhappy with how we are handling the Empire's affairs in Malifaux. Our spies abroad have been unable to determine whether other powers are coming under similar pressure. We have to assume it is the Empire alone that is being manipulated. The Governor-General's connections in London are telling their worth, to our detriment." "The Earl is failing us over there?" "Her Majesty's funeral has been used as a pretext for his recall and replacement." "By whom?" "That would be your choice. Within reason, and with approval. You'd be advisor in extraordinary, while they are the face of the Empire in Malifaux. You'd also be under watch of my people. Desperation does not excuse idiocy." "And what would I be doing, besides playing Kingmaker?" "We need you to be our eyes and ears." "And if needed your blade in the dark." "The Governor-General has his damnable Secretary. The Empire will have you." Word Count 1572 Ingredients Theme: Predation (After a fashion) Character: The Scorned Child Line: "That's a scientific instrument, not a child's toy!" Item: Steam Velocipede Location: Military Cemetery
  3. Just sticking my head in to say I've got 1,250 words done that I'm mostly happy with. Should close on the 1750 and the five ingredients in the next few days. I'll get it posted as soon after that as I can. Well done to everyone with a story already up. Hope to see some more before the deadline. Good luck to anyone else still trying to slay the word beast. I'll get caught up with my reading and leave comments soon as well.
  4. I'll have something posted within the week. Which seems a horribly long time given Hatefull Darkblack, and The Grue's turns of speed. Well done both of you. Unless you want picture of my pen and paper scrawls (you don't) I'll be lagging behind.
  5. Either of those sounds good. Gives a bit of leeway if we have another tie as well. Good luck to both Brewmaster and Hateful with their race. Love to be able to throw my hat into the ring, but time isn't going to be on my side until the start of May's Iron Quill. At which point, watch your backs. I'll post something next round though, just not in the first 24 hours.
  6. Taken me a while to get around to reading this. Glad I have though. Really like the overall story. Kept waiting for Gremlins to turn up, given your track record Will we get to read more of Tabitha?
  7. If all goes well with the next round, how will the picking of the five ingredients for April be done? The 2,1,1 split gave 1st place a head start in the 4 ingredient comps, but giving them 3 seems like an unfair advantage.
  8. Can't wait for the 3rd then. The word count increase should give a nice bit of extra room to play in, especially for trying to work in all five ingredients. Dread to think how quick you're going to be Hateful, with this kind of running start.
  9. Congratulations to Hateful and to Brewmaster. Well done both of you. Thanks to Edonil for putting the comp together as well. The word count - I like working in the tight limit, however if it's causing people problems, I'd be happy to see it increased and see more authors getting their work in the comp. Would 1750 be a nice balance, or would the extra 250 make little difference. Location - Adding this as an extra item seems good, giving writers more ideas and scope with their stories. It'll certainly be impressive if authors work all 5 ingredients into a piece. Keeping the minimum at 2 also gives enough room to head off in wildly different directions. I'll happily go with whatever is decided. See you all in the next round.
  10. Thanks Ashlion. I'm still getting to grips with the new forum format. Having stuggled to read other things on here, I think the new wider layout does large blocks of text few favours, as it's just a bit too far to scan naturally. I'll be carrying this on at some point soon.
  11. I really like the start of this. I'll make a character suggestion when things have developed a bit more. I think the first paragraph could do with splitting up a bit. The new forum format makes it an intimidating block of text. Your descriptions are really nice, but might benefit from tightening up in places. Not too much though as I get a really good idea of the character you're creating. Can't wait to see where this goes.
  12. That was a very good story. Really going to have to pull my finger out and get some of my own stuff up.
  13. Well done and good luck to everyone that entered. This has been a really great round to be involved in. Certainly it's been useful to read what people think of my stuff, and hopefully my own replies in that regard have been helpful. There's been a fair bit of tweaking of stories this round (not least my own utter turn around) and that's been an interesting thing to see. Thank you to everyone who commented on either version of my story. I look forward to anyone else's input, especially seeing what Edonil says. I'm still disbelieving at Hateful's speed in getting a story posted (and the unusual and innovative style), and impressed with Brewmaster's flurry of new short stories outside of the Iron Quill . The next round looks like it'll be very interesting. We all seem to be pushing ourselves.
  14. Thanks for commenting on the new version. Glad you liked it overall. Any continuation would have more actual robot on robot violence. The short story form puts the pressure on to get those terms across though. I get what you mean, about letting the reader work there way into the story, but I'm not sure there's much I could have left out and still given the same sense of the place. The posters is a great idea. The fist thing was one of the last bits to be added (could have given Ryker the severed thumb, and ticked off another ingredient. Mutter) and suffers for not having a word by word edit. I see what you're saying, and will bear it in mind for the next piece; tweaking time is getting short.
  15. Great story. Really enjoying what you're putting up here.
  16. Well, the new piece is a big alteration from the last one. I think I've managed to squeze in everything that I could and still be under the word limit. I'll definately be returning to this outside of the Iron Quill, to flesh out the storyline. I've put the new piece in as a spoiler below, so any changes between it and whatever it looks like post feedback can be tracked. Open Spoiler Morgan sat, feet dangling over the shaft's depths. The disengaged gear upon which she perched was one of the smallest in this section of the Mechanism, yet it was still large enough that she straddled only a single tooth. Far above her the vast gear upon which the Antikythera arena had been built continued its imperceptible rotation; as it had long before the Breach, long before the Mechanism was discovered, and long before the House of Iron had built the Cog Pit amongst its chambers, axles, leadscrews, shafts, and gears. Antikythera was used for only the most prestigious of matches, amongst the elite of the Cog Pit. During such a bout the sound of the Constructs fighting would echo down here, each blow struck sending vibrations thrumming down the massive axle. Morgan and her Fight Crew, Resilient, were a long way from taking part in such a battle. They needed more wins to their name, enough to attract a patron, and sponsorship from the House of Iron itself. The thought of being wholly under the thumb of the House rubbed Morgan up the wrong way; there were as many shackles as privileges in such an agreement. With a patron Resilient could build a Construct capable of fighting its way through the other arenas to the top of a Soulstone Tournament. With that title, and one of the prized 'Stones they'd be able to build a machine worthy of the greatest arena in the Cog Pit, and stand alongside such legendary Crews and Cogs as Bisley, Watt, & Steiner and TFU; Haley and Bastard Jack; Vellocet and Moloko; Hammerstone; Diotoir. Tonight's fight was the first real test of Resilient's ambition; a series of wins in the Mainspring arena had lead to being part of the opening match in Helical. It was a step up for the Crew, both in terms of prestige and risk. Morgan's fingers scratched at the ancient script circling the gear, as she wondered if their Cog would survive the evening. Mettle wasn't the first Construct Resilient had built, but she'd been with them the longest, and won the most fights. Painful experience had informed the design and construction. The scars from each win were carefully repaired, and the wreckage of each defeat made good. Each refinement saw performance improve, leading to the current string of victories. Although it was Morgan herself who'd pushed for the move to the Helical arena, the thought of sacrificing Mettle to the Crew's ambition gnawed at her. Their opponents, the Suicide Kings and their Cog, Lono, had faced Resilient and Mettle in the Mainspring arena twice before and inflicted damaging defeats both time, before taking their own place in Helical. Morgan tamped down her pre-fight nerves, fear turning to focus. She pulled herself up, and began to make her way back through the Mechanism to the Crew's workshop, deftly picking her way through the moving machinery. The crew had been going through their own pre-fight rituals and checks when Morgan returned; Ber shaving her head back to rough stubble, in pessimistic readiness for the heat and sparks of post-match repair work; Inès triple-checking the internal systems; Reagan sharpening the weaponry. Mettle towered over the members of Resilient, pseudo-humanoid form dwarfing her creators. Their experience in Mainspring had turned their eleventh hour routine into something almost as mechanical as the Cog itself. "Any final adjustments Inès?" Morgan asked. The engineer shook her head, mouth filled with screws, as she replaced one of the inspection plates in Mettle's back. "Reagan?" "All finished Boss." Some Crews sent their Construct into the arena still covered in oil and tool marks, or polished their Cog's armour until it shone, but that wasn't Resilient's style. Mettle's outer shell was painted black, her name prominent on her hull, with other designs painted onto the large armoured plates; all the work of Reagan's hand. Inès had added flourishes to the metalwork as well, even taking elaborate care with the fretwork of the exhaust vents. That their artistry would be ruined during the fights deterred neither of them; in a few places the repairs from previous matches had even been worked into their designs. "Ber?" "Done and done. As always." Ber appeared from the back of the workshop, weaving between machinery, absently wiping grease off her metal hand onto her overalls, moving to help Inès with the last few screws. "Lets fire her up then." Morgan began the pre fight sequence. Resilient subscribed to the theory that if your machine didn't walk into the arena it didn't fight in the arena- if you wheeled it in you were going to wheel it out. Mettle's eyes lit up. Crew and Construct advanced into Helical to the cheers of the crowd. Morgan made a point of taking in the new arena, fighting down trepidation and excitement. She'd seen matches in Helical from the stands, but the view from the fight pit was a complete change of perspective. The metal wall ringing the arena rose to twice her height, before rows of seats climbed steeply away. The noise of the crowd rose as the Suicide Kings entered the arena. Lono had been modified since they'd last fought, now boasting even more armour plating, and what had to be improved power to mitigate the weight. The move to Helical had not lessened Suicide Kings' inclination for brutality and durability in their Cog. Morgan considered Mettle's comparatively lighter form. She had more speed, and it would hopefully be the edge Resilient needed. Not that they hadn't made a few specific tweaks to Mettle when their opponent had been announced. The Suicide Kings' would have done the same to Lono of course. "Fight Crews, are you ready?" The crowd quieted in anticipation. Morgan made her own quick checks and, getting the three nods she needed from Reagan, Ber and Inès, raised her fist high. Ryker, Suicide Kings' Crew Captain, did the same, signalling that both Crews were ready to fight. Cog Pit tradition dictated this as being the point of no return. If you didn't raise your fist you didn't have to fight. The crowd would boo you off, and the House would impose a fine, but if your Cog wasn't going to run it was often preferable to the alternative. Morgan had seen Captains raise their fist in front of Constructs that were clearly not ready for the arena. It always preceded a massacre; the Cog Pit had no place for mercy. "You've seen them pound Croceus into scrap: it's the Suicide Kings and Lono!" The announcer's voice cut over the crowd. "Coming up from Mainspring, Resilient and Mettle! Fight Crews! Arm! Your! Constructs!" The Cog Pit prohibited any Construct being fully armed outside either the arena or the workshop. In the event of mechanical failure it made sense to minimise the risk of fatalities; not that a Cog needed conventional weapons to kill you, but there was no sense in making it easier. Mettle knelt down as Morgan helped Ber lift a heavy punching blade into place and attach it to one arm. It wouldn't pierce armour of a decent thickness, but if it went between plates it'd damage anything underneath. It didn't have the reach of a long blade, but that mattered little in this match; Lono's preferred style was to get in close. Morgan removed the leather sheath from the point as Inès and Reagan finished arming the battering ram on the other arm. Five feet of pneumatically driven steel bar, the ram would punch clean through armour when activated. It was a gamble though, reliant on precision, firm footing, and mechanical integrity, with only a single guaranteed use, but one that might pay off, if Mettle had chance to use it. Across the arena, the Suicide Kings finished fitting their signature weapon to Lono: a huge pneumatic wrecking claw, capable of tearing Mettle apart. Its other arm ended in an equally large shield, to protect itself as it got close enough for the claw to do its work. The sight reminded Morgan of the bitter hours spent repairing Mettle after their last encounter. The Crew made their final checks, and stepped back, leaving Morgan and Mettle together. The Suicide Kings did likewise, Ryker remaining beside Lono. "Cogs, take your places." At the command Morgan activated Mettle's fight directives. The Construct stepped forward into the marked position. Opposite them Lono shuffled into place. Morgan joined the others, the arena door closing behind her. With the Cogs readied for battle they had about thirty seconds until the fight started. They headed up the stairs to the Crew's box in silence. The announcer began the countdown. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. FIGHT!"
  17. Having reread the Gremlin section of the M2E rulebook, there are lots of great little references in here that I really like. What follows is a mix of personal preference, editing tweaks and praise. I hope it's of use. Being picking, it isn't obvious if you mean sunrise or sunset here. This phrase rings off somehow. Force to be reckoned with would be more usual. I get the idea but it took me till the end of the sentence to realise what had gone on. excitement of? Really nice visual. Fits so well with the Gremlins. You nail the drawl in the way you've written the speech, so you could drop this. By the same token you could go heavier with it in the Three Kingdoms bit ('perience). Also watch out for missing the apostrophe in y'all. Likewise an', 'em, 'Cause etc. Thinkin' further down when Ophelia speaks. Nice use of the Line. Capital for the Missing a space here. I'd use something other than package here. "Gets what she wants"? Like the bit with the necklace, I know what you mean, but it's slightly awkward. I'm not sure huts is the right word, as it threw me off when you moved to barn and house later. up from its vantage point? Not sure you need to mention Rami again, that it's his rifle is implicit. "were reduced to smouldering wrecks?" I'd also end the sentence here. The humans' attention being drawn to Pere's distraction? Like this. I think you could end this at rib. It's such a good phrase that the meaning gets across without the explanation. Repetition of focus here. "Keep his head"? End this with a comma, not a full stop. Sailing seems very passive. Smashing? Why briefly revealing? This sounds as thought they freeze because of the presence of fancy tableware. Capitalise Gremlins. I'd be tempted to make it "the Ortega that Gremlins" just to smooth the sentence. I read "Ortega gremlins" as one thing until my brain caught up. I wonder if you could use a Gremlin specific metaphor here? Slow down seems too passive. Be ware of any tense change if you do. You've lost one of your best lines here, about the snowstorm of china and wood splinters. Where is he tossing the guns? The edge of what? There's a lot of good stuff here, and the above is the result of going through with a very fine toothed comb. My first reading skimmed past much of this because I was caught up in the story, so don't loose that momentum.
  18. The word limit does make things interesting. I've had one or two pieces where I've really had to stretch to reach it, but far more frequently the ideas just don't all fit in. I do drag my feet getting to the explanation of what the Cog Pit is, don't I. The third paragraph could be tidied up, and it might be possible to shuffle the order of things to get to it sooner. I'm wary of opening with it, as that might break the structure of the report. Likewise for anecdotal content. Much of the issues stem from the framing device I've chosen, so it might be a question of changing that. I don't want to go for a straight letter though. I wonder if a series of documents could be made to work. If I make a radical change to the structure then the Constructs and Fight Crews will move centre stage, if I can find a story hook for that. I'll ponder the secrecy of the Cog Pit (I wonder if I need to change the name. Keep wanting to shorten it to Pit, and that leads back to Samuels. Possibly useful the the House in muddying the waters). The Guild have a lot more to worry about than a mechanised fight club, and I think it's a very different proposition to deal with than Ringside (in terms of potential resources/value and resistance. Samuel's is a man on his own, the House is something bigger(or gives the impression of such - interests on Earthside perhaps?)). Thank you for the feedback. I can see changes rippling through this piece, and needing a few passes to make sure everything meshes together again.
  19. I feel I may have gone a little far. There are more than a few points of personal preference in there, and certainly the confusion may be wholly my own; breaking things down for reviewing might be partly to blame for not seeing the bigger picture for instance. I happy welcome you to do the same to my piece. The point of the story is to get images in someone else's head. I can only tell if my words are having the desired effect if I get a response. Judging if the sesne of the story holds out on paper/screen is hard for a writer, especially if you're reading over a piece not long after writng. There's too much of the story still in your head, and it fills in the blanks for you (likewise missing words when editing- see my Ringside reference going walkabout). I think the multi-part story works, it's just needs some nods to the transitions. A line about selling Auguste to the Pits at the end of the first section for instance. The word limit is very tight. I swing between thinking there are some stories that just can't be told in the space, and thinking that I'm not skilled enough to tell the story in the space. Somewhere between the two fits personal decisions about the story, and a gathering of darlings that should be killed. I don't think you need a simplier story, you just need to find a simplier way to tell it; cut this down to it's bare bones, and use the communities assumed knowledge to fill in the blanks. Do it right and it'll be fantastic. The dog image only requires an extra line to make clear. Likewise Auguste giving away information. We're in his head, so you can give us a little more of his thinking. Leaving it hanging lets the reader fill his skull with all the wrong motives. The clockwork girl scene only requires a little more description of the room and her to make your intentions clear. You only need to make slight adjustments to clear things just enough for the reader. Better this than beat them over the head with a point; you left me thinking about your story, which is part of the point. I'd been interested to see this story reworked, either for Iron Quill, or letting it run to the legnth you want outside of the comp (I've got more than a few pieces that deserve that treatment). I'll happily give feedback again, it's a better way to judge a piece than by introspection and doubt. ---------- Post added at 08:16 AM ---------- Previous post was at 07:53 AM ---------- Further to my musings about word limit. You can also argue it's up to the writer to know what space suits a story, and make the right decision about how compressed they dare make it. Not just from a technical stand point but from one of writing the best story possible with the ideas.
  20. I'm getting a start on the larger story, but also keeping an open mind on changes to the above. Be it large or small alterations, or scraping it entirely for something that is more in the realm of a traditional story.
  21. Below is the story with the tweaks suggested by Hateful implemented and highlighted in red. Open Spoiler H Further to my previous report I have begun the infiltration of the Cog Pit, posing as a patron. Its environs and operation are far beyond what we suspected; both the Cog Pit itself, and the Mechanism on which it sits, are far greater in scale than we supposed. Much to my chagrin I have been unable to deduce the exact location of Cog Pit within/beneath the City. The venue’s own security measures have obliged me to continue using a single entrance, although others certainly exist. Blindfolded by my escorts, we travel downwards by elevator, before continuing by a rail car of some sort which, after a journey with numerous pauses and turns, arrives at the Cog Pit itself. I suspect that the speed of both rail car and elevator is altered upon each visit; certainly the pauses in the car are inconsistent. Further details of the entrance location and security measures are provided in the first two appendices to this report, should you wish to send another agent, or compare my findings with others you hold. The Cog Pit provides its patrons with a chance to witness Constructs participate in pit fights against one another. This machine-on-machine violence gives much wider variation than any mere boxing match, even those seen at Ringside, as the Constructs are restricted only by the abilities of their Fight Crews, rather than the limits of the human body. A standard match is thrilling enough, but such is the extent of the Pit that a number of dedicated arenas exist to cater for more specialist fights. The Cog Pit has taken residence in a much older structure. While some rooms have been created recently, the majority of the space speaks of something ancient. The chambers and arenas that make up the Cog Pit are nestled atop the works of the Mechanism, housed within caverns hewn out of Malifaux's bedrock. The Mechanism is vast. Gears and shafts of phenomenal size run throughout the Cog Pit. Some are in constant motion, while others appear not to have turned since before the First Breach. The Mechanism's true purpose remains a mystery. Certain sections are under full control of the Cog Pit, with their original purpose having been perverted to provide practical use or spectacle; two of the arenas are built wholly on top of slower-moving gears, while others use the ancient machinery to operate pits, or similar hazards. I have appended a full technical report and associated diagrams of the accessible areas of the structure. There are inscriptions on some of the parts and stonework, and I have attempted to copy these as fully as possible; I fear that someone with more knowledge than myself is needed to make a reliable survey. There are also vast stone and metalwork statues in the largest of the original chambers. These loom over even the largest Construct in the arenas, and I can't help but wonder if these Colossi once moved. I have been unable to explore freely, but rumours say that the Mechanism descends far below the levels used by the Cog Pit (As soon as egress is found I would recommend sending down our own hand-picked team to survey these deep workings- there must be vast water pumps, of a design that might benefit the mines). Somewhere below must be a power source for the Mechanism. The most prevalent theory is that there is a monstrously large Soulstone, but then all things in this City seem to come back to those rocks. The Cog Pit is controlled by the House of Iron, or simply "the House". I've made very little headway finding information on this front. I have yet to discover if it is a group, or a façade for a single individual; in either case the whole operation speaks of wealth and influence. The Cogs, as the fighting Constructs are known, are the creations of individual teams of designers, mechanics, and apprentices, known as Fight Crews. A handful of these groups have rich patrons, while others are financed by the House, and have an income tied to their success. Some Cogs and Crews have already entered legend: Bisley, Watt, & Steiner's TFU; Haley and Bastard Jack; the sisters Vellocet & Moloko, famed for their clockwork machines; Panama Rose; Hammerstone; Diotoir; Bolt Thrower. More than twenty Fight Crews participate, running in excess of forty Constructs between them. These teams occupy workshops within the Cog Pit, but their exact location is closely guarded, both from patrons and potential saboteurs from other Crews. (See Appendix IV for full details of the Constructs and Crews). The Cog Fights themselves are a true spectacle. A pair of Constructs enters the arena, watched by their Fight Crews. At the judge’s command the fight begins, with the two machines attacking each other as dictated by their logic engines. The command for the fight to stop comes from the judge when one Construct is deemed to have incapacitated or destroyed the other. See Appendix V onwards for breakdowns of fighting styles and vulnerabilities. There is a lot of information to be gathered from observation here, let alone if we turn a Fight Crew. The fights are split across weights and categories, with different arenas dedicated to certain matches. Antikythera holds the largest and most spectacular fights. Tourbillon, Escapement, Helical and Mainspring all specialise as well. Within the loose rules of each arena anything goes, although there is a prohibition on the deliberate destruction of Logic Engines or Soulstones. Leaving them vulnerable, however, is considered to be a worse offence. There are very few Constructs powered by Soulstones; all of these are either House owned, or in the possession of the most elite tier of Fight Crews. The other teams rely on steam power, clockwork, or more unusual methods (again, see Appendix IV). Given the reports of rogue Soulstone powered Constructs, this seems fortuitous. The thought of a mechanical Spartacus rising from the gladiator pits is one I do not wish to contemplate. The Cog Pit appears to run on a similar model to other, more mundane, establishments of its ilk. Bookmakers and loan sharks provide the main income of the House. Those unable to pay their debts have their thumb severed and held as collateral against a quick repayment. A number of my fellow patrons bear a tell-tale scar circling the base of their thumb, a testament to its efficacy. No one I met was missing this digit, and rumour in the Seized Gear (the Cog Pit’s own drinking establishment) suggests that failure to pay up leads to a fatal encounter with the House's own Construct, "Ultra-Violence". These death matches/executions seem to be the final fate of many a malefactor within the Cog Pit, and I've little wish to investigate them in earnest lest I find out the truth first-hand. The level of technical skill displayed by the Fight Crews is impressive. Very few of the Constructs are based on existing chassis, and those that are have been extensively modified. All others Constructs appear to be of totally unique design and fabrication. The Guild's Magewrights could certainly learn a lot down here. There do appear to be a number of "Guild" Constructs retained by the House for putting in the arenas as opposition in some of the narrative fights. This is in need of a separate follow–up report, as the idea that complete Constructs have found their way outside of Guild control is a fascinating one. The Fight Crews are not the only possible source of recruits presented by the Pit. The crowd may also provide willing members to our cause. While much of the audience is made up of those merely here for the thrill of the fights, there are others who are clearly rapt by the mechanics of the Constructs. I've seen at least a dozen patrons taking notes or sketching diagrams. I would be unsurprised to find a colleague in R____’s employ already in the audience, or possibly in the Fight Crews themselves. Nor would the presence of a clandestine Guild observer shock me, although I suspect the Cog Pit is being deliberately hidden from Hoffman and his division. How long it will avoid his notice, I don't know. There must be some form of bribe being submitted to the Guild, although if it is in scrip, Constructs or mechanical innovations I do not know. More evidence of Guild payoffs can be seen in the spectacle matches, with some of the Fight Crew members actively using powers in support of their Constructs. I fear the Witch Hunters may find them regardless of bribes. Criid might find herself ill-matched should the whole Cog Pit rise up against her and her misbegotten soldiers, though. It would take a Guild action of considerable scope to dislodge any entrenched resistance, should it be stirred up. Should any other agent wish to contact me, have them use the phrase "Nobody panic, I know BASIC." I'll reply indicating their next course of action and if a meeting is possible. [PHP][/PHP] Word Count 1525 Ingredients Theme: In the Shadow of Giants Character: The Clockwork Girl Line: Nobody panic, I know basic stuff! Item: Severed Thumb
  22. The following is me going through line by line. It ranges from big questions, to minor gripes, and possible a good dose of me being thick. I like the story arc, and the element of mystery as to why Auguste has been thrown to the Pit (not many people in Malifaux are going to know why they die after all), and as I highlight below, there are some really nice lines in there. Open Spoiler How does Auguste know it's a pipe? Is he chained in such a way that he can feel it? Can he move along the pipe? Is he standing? Sitting? The brute stands over him, but it's not clear if that's based on size or relative position. Does any light come in through the sack hood? I'd cut the second paragraph off sooner, as it finishes on what could be taken as a full sentence, rather than mid thought. Why is he able to hear the second man, but not register the approach of the first, or follow the direction of the voice? Surely he hears the door open as they enter. Is there a subtle implication in the fourth/fifth paragraph that Auguste is long-sighted? This sounds as though the face is calm and well-spoken. I like the phrase, but I don't get what you mean by it. Surely he knows this by dint of direction, not appearance? It's a smaller chamber, where has he been hiding? From behind? Something in the rhythm or phrasing knocks me out here. Auguste answering questions without offering resistance seems off. He's been trained to deal with pain, so surely this training also extends to resisting interrogation etc? His captures also seem far too willing to believe him. There needs to either be reasoning for accepting that he knows nothing about Valkyrie; the answer given in a manner far too angry and quick for a lie, or that it's only a minor worry. This seems an odd point to introduce the dog, to never be mentioned again. "Kidnapper" seems at odds with the suggestion that the brute is unfamiliar, and feels like he's been put out by having to see Auguste/only sever a thumb. You mention the meals, but make no mention of the difficulty of eating them with a thumb missing. This paragraph seems awkward. The tense/sense of the next sentence feels off, and the mention of Auguste's past feels out of place here. I like this phrase Putting something about his role in the riots might fit better here. This seems like something the Guild would be throwing resources at, not just a hush hush one man job. I'd get rid of the repetition of feet. This paragraph seems confusing. The mention of alleyways and sky seems to directly contradict the idea of being underground. How does he sense he's underground anyway? Why is the castle dungeon metaphor relevant to Auguste? Why a railway station bar? What features would that have that any other bar wouldn't? Why would a railway station bar be expensively appointed? What's the significance of Samuel's arriving by train? Is it his bar, or has he taken it over for this meeting. What's behind Samuel's manner? If it's just how he is, fair enough, but he seems to be cutting into his own profits with this sort of treatment. Why feast the man you're about to have executed. No capital on train. Why has this thrown him, when he's in a railway bar? What's a panelled window? Why doesn't he go to the window and look out? Why does Auguste not make any attempt to escape the room/why do his captors assume he'll stay put? What's the give away? Surely he wouldn't bother to hide it? This seems a sign of nervousness. I like this. I get the wordplay, but I don't follow the sense of it. Why emphasise this? Why doesn't he take the change to escape? It feels out of place to follow this with someone entering the room. Flat suggests a spacial quality, rather than a textural one. Dull is no better, as in faces I'd read that as uninteresting rather than non-reflective. "Increasing the likelihood" suggests something else before this implies that she is. Reached out? I'd either make this one sentence, or fiddle things to be able to drop it entirely. We've been inside his head before, but this feels a bit too far/jarring in the midst of the exchange/description. Well done for working an this in seamlessly. It passed me by until I saw it in your ingredients list. Another great line The clockwork girl seems far and away more advanced than anything else seen in Malifaux, if she can pass for human so convincingly. This seems an odd use for such a presumably expensive piece of technology (Unless no one else knows she's clockwork (seems unlikely, but could be a fun storyline to follow. Blade Runner in Malifaux. Anyway...). When and why has she learned\been taught rites? Auguste ought to have difficulty with his shirt with his lack of thumb. The lines are really making me work for the sense of them. Here's what I got: Auguste is in an antechamber with at least three other fighters or guards, one of whom (Harold?) thinks Auguste is going out there for a fair fight, hence the wordy speech. The second speaker has a better grasp of events. The third interjects, suggestion that execution fights generally happen elsewhere? The fourth line is Auguste, making unlikely light of the situation. The last line is either the second or third speaker again. I like the phrasing here, but I don't follow the meaning of it. Would the gentleman be in the crowd somewhere, making sure Auguste dies. Really like this. I like the image of charging the Steamborg, but it seems out of character for Auguste, who's been very passive so far. This is the first indication that he wants to fight this, and even then it's going along with his fate. The fight seems a too heavily one sided way to kill someone. If it's a warning/message it's too quick. Likewise for anyone wanting to see a Steamborg in action (although dropping a man with a single swipe is probably pretty impressive). Does Auguste enter the arena with the other fighters or do they come out after he's dead, to really show off the Steamborg? I get the sense from the last bit of dialogue this might be the case, but it isn't wholly clear. I like the use of the strikethrough, and how it sets up what comes next. The finial two paragraphs do feel slightly disconnected from the rest of the story. What's the significance of the light and the clockwork? Overall it's a good story, and the above is getting really granular, at time digging into writing mechanics/your thought process rather than the entry itself. I hope it's of use, but feel beyond free to ignore it all. I look forward to seeing your comments on "Cog Fight".
  23. I really like this. The ending is fantastic. I don't think you need to capitalise NEEDED; the rest of the sentence does the emphasis for you. In the fourth paragraph you've dropped the apostrophe from 'Fella I think you can drop the "arms" here, and you need to qualify that Buford is short. The mention of heigh made me think tall, rather than short. It took me to the end of the sentence to work out what you meant. The only other changes I would make, are ones I would make, and so are to be ignored.
  24. Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece, and the BASIC joke. I'll change that. That's mostly come out of how I envisioned things, rather than from firm in-universe reasoning. If pressed then (this is just stream of consciousness); The Guild don't seem likely to look favourably on such a gathering of potential force under their streets, unless it can be turned to their interests. The clandestine nature of the gathering lends a certain frisson to an evening for the patrons. The House is playing a very clever game, and our writer is seeing the façade of secrecy they want him to see. There's the paranoid nature of some of the Fight Crew members, with powers, who are essentially being sheltered by the Cog Pit. Dealing with either side of the Guild/Arcanist struggle is much easier if it doesn't look like you are in bed with the other. There's also the nature of the soulstone economy, which suggests the Guild impose sanctions on Construct numbers etc if they had a hand in the running of the place. The situation of the Mechanism lends itself to secrecy (both its position and its potential value being a factor). The House's death-matches may only be the tip of the iceberg, with pit fighters with Flesh-Construct grafting being used somewhere in the depths, with other more unusual things. I like the idea of the Guild having dedicated Wrecking teams (possibly under Hoffman, or indeed just a group of freelancer unconnected to the Guild (turning up a railway sites etc and just going for the constructs and other valuables- that's definitely another story)) who confiscate and break down Constructs just to get at the Soulstone. There was a mention of it until the pre-posting editing pass. I didn't think I'd cut it to be honest. I'll see if I can reinstate the head nod to it. I agree. You're on the same page as I was while writing this. I worked with trying to get the idea (the fight pits), the setting (the Mechaism), an event (which would have to be a fight to make good on reader expectations), and characters (either our debtor from the abortive paragraph, or one of the Fight Crew) into 1500 word, and I couldn't find the space or the story hook. Going with only one of these four, would leave the others swinging in the wind far more than I'd like. Going for the "zoomed out" version of events meant I could include everything at the expense of a story, which has left me uncomfortable. There's a much bigger story to be told in this setting, following the fortunes of a Fight Crew (I've been reading too much Manga recently, and the story in my head has divided into fairly neat sections, stealing something of that story form), as they battle towards a title, and the larger world around them (internal tensions, rivalries with other crews, the machinations of the House, saboteurs, Arcanist and Guild meddling, general life in Malifaux - I have an image in my head of either the undead or Hamlin breaking through into the Mechanism at some point; Leveticus and Alice in a cameo somewhere in the audience; Ramos' Arachnid's spying for him; One of the Soulstone powered Constructs going rogue; etc). I'm going to continue twiddling with this story in the background, and see if anything the right size for Iron Quill comes from it. Of course there's a story there, it's just a question of if I have the skill to write it. I'll also see if there's more of a narrative to underlie the above piece, but I'm not sure.
  25. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. This month's contest is tricky. There are lots of cool possibilities, but without stories behind them. Glad you like the backpack idea. I look forward to seeing where you take it.
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