Brewmaster

An incredibly good story! Seems I need to up my game a bit

Given that there are cards that do say "Can ignore", the fact that this one doesn't would mean charge rules while engaged still apply.

It might need some tweaks, but I finally got this idea on paper: For the past 15 minutes, Elliot Sprague sat waiting in the office of the Madam of Sybelle’s Cathouse. He would have gotten up to pace, but the bouncer who manhandled him into a chair in the office and tied him to it seemed to think it was better to just sit. Elliot whistled a limerick to himself while he waited, tapping out the rhythm with his boots on the wooden floor. Elliot had barely walked in the door of the cathouse when the bouncer grabbed his collar and grumbled “Sybelle’s gonna talk to you.” Elliot was particularly proud of the counter-remark “Well she’s not quite my type, but if she wants to bring Abigail too, then I think I can manage.” The bouncer, not being astute in comedy, simply clamped his fist on one of Elliot’s shoulders and dragged him into the main office. “Do you consider yourself a religious man, Mr Sprague?” The new voice was feminine; showing signs of age, but still silky enough to part men from their coin. An unfurled whip was gently placed over one shoulder, the grip still being held. Elliot could hear the shifting of leather, corsets, and heels behind him as he asked, “No quite sure what you’re meaning Syb. Care to elaborate?” The whip slowly tugged its way back as Sybelle’s voice drifted closer, soft cotton in Elliot’s opposite ear. “I mean do you consider yourself beholden to a higher power? That no matter what you accomplish in life, no matter how high you climb in your aspirations, there will always be someone better than you?” Elliot could smell the house perfume now, fragrances that hint and never overwhelm. “Ain’t no one better than ol’ Sprague, you stupid…” A slash of pain lanced across Elliot’s shoulder as Sybelle snapped the whip off the rest of the way, then grabbed Elliot by the hair and wrenched his head back. Her once silky smooth voice was replaced by pristine vitriol as she spoke. “Then let me preach you a little something and by the end of it, if you’re smart, you’ll get on your hands and knees and beg for my mercy.” Sybelle’s grip loosened, and the whip was draped on the opposite shoulder. “In the beginning, there was Sybelle. Sybelle saw that the miners, the farmers, and the workers all needed happiness. They needed a promised land to distract them from the truth of Malifaux. And so Sybelle created a land of milk and honey, and it was good.” Elliot caught his first glimpse of Sybelle as she slinked in front of him, the whip dropping to the floor and following her like a tail. She walked to one of the windows, drawing the curtains and pushing the shutters open. “But Sybelle knew this utopia would not last untarnished.” Sybelle turned around, her deep green eyes locking onto Elliot. “She knew there would be snakes that would infiltrate this utopia, destroy the work she had put into it. And so it was up to her to strike these snakes down, so that the rest could experience this promised land as she saw fit.” Elliot burst out laughing as Sybelle finished, flashing her a sneer of cigar-stained teeth. “So big bad Sybelle’s going to rough up little old me. You got any sort of reason to go with this, or do you just like looking at me that much?” Sybelle rotated the grip in her hand, causing the whip to flip back and forth like a cat tail. “It seems you don’t understand how this business works, so let me explain it to you. You tried to kill one of my belles…” “Says wh…” Sybelle fiercely cracked the whip at Elliot’s face, drawing a thin line of blood on one cheek. “Do not interrupt me. That’s incredibly rude. Now… as I was saying. You tried to kill Abigail. She was one of my most promising new girls, but because she was still fresh off the train from Earthside, she didn’t quite understand the rules here, and apparently that irritated you. Your attempt is going to cost me Scrip to get Abigail’s mind back in the right place and a rearrangement of rooms so that she doesn’t have to be reminded of you each time she tries to bed someone. That is an expensive fix to a problem that shouldn’t have happened.” “And if you look closely, you can see how broken up I am about your problems. Listen up doxie. I run with a select crowd. A crowd that will be none too pleased at how you’ve been treating me.” Elliot jutted his jaw out. “So if you’re done crying, you can untie me, give me that bottle of hooch on your desk, and you beg ME not to burn this whole building to the ground.” Sybelle watched the man placidly for a few moments before saying, “This crowd… would this be Mr. Evans and Mr. Compton?” Elliot nodded haughtily. “Since we’re already talking business, we might as well add this conversation in. Would you like to know what my solution is to that problem? 85 proof.” Sybelle cracked a smile at the blunt confusion on Elliot’s face. “Well… 85 proof and a free night with two of my best. You see, your friends believe that you’re worth a bottle of rye a piece, and spending some time with my Magnolias free of charge. I believe it was Mr. Compton who felt it was a ‘crying shame to lose him, but they can find someone else to play the harmonica.’ Now then…” Sybelle was visibly savoring the concern that was growing across Elliot’s face. “As far as your friends are concerned, you disappeared down a hole for all they care. As far as the local constables are concerned, if they have less paperwork and I’m not causing any blatant problems I have free rein inside my establishment to do what I want.” The concern spread like wildfire into fear as Sybelle slinked behind Elliot once more, draping the whip around his neck this time. “As of right now, you don’t exist… Why I think that means I can do whatever comes to mind, and there will be no repercussions for it.” Her silky smooth voice rang horribly sour in Elliot’s ears as he struggled to break loose. “Now now, don’t go making a fool of yourself this late. I mean I might start to think that all that bravado earlier was just bluster.” The whip drew tighter around Elliot’s neck as Sybelle leaned in, giving Elliot a peck on the cheek. “Let me show you how you really kill someone.” Sybelle shook out her arm as she finished winding her whip back up and set it on the table. “Pulling muscles killing people… I guess even statues fall apart eventually. Thomas!” Sybelle called out to the bouncer. “I’m ready.” After a few moments of silence, Sybelle stormed over to the door. “Seriously if you can’t expect a bouncer to understand the job of body removal, what can…” She froze in fear as she opened the door from her office to find the cathouse a complete bloodbath, bodies strewn everywhere. And standing in the center of the carnage, turning around at the sound of the door opening, was the one man out of all the wanted posters Sybelle feared to meet: The Redchapel killer. “Evenin girly.”

You're off Vorschlag. Sewn fate only copies damage an conditions. The Paralysed is the only thing that would happen. And I'm looking at Ototototototototo and nurse, and I'm not really seeing that can't be taken advantage of in clan for cheaper... Could be missing something though

I really appreciate the positivity everyone! As soon as I get some actual sleep, I'm planning on going through my Non-Quill stuff again and fine-tuning it. I like the basics, but I think it could w cleaned up a bit

The Arcanists are a more tempting Faction choice... *ponders*

The way the Sewn Fate reads is the target sewn suffers the same damage, and gets the same conditions. Healed voodoo doll and two paralysed models is the result I'm seeing.

As a guy who really digs robots punching other robots, this particular story was up my alley I'll get some more specific stuff up later, but the major things sticking out at me: You're throwing out a lot of new terminology in the first few paragraphs. It definitely sets the stage, but arguably it works better for world-building (ie: you do basic stuff this story, then you start adding those terms in subsequent stories). I definitely like the mention of "The great Cog Fighters", maybe turn those into posters or memorabilia around the work area? The bit about raising your fist to signal the fight's on could use a bit of tweaking. It's a good touch, but you could switch it to "the cost of a new Cog chassis is expensive for a fight you're not 100% sure about" or some such.

“Killing isn’t magic. There’s no mystical element to it, no zen parables or koans to be gleamed no matter how much those dime novels want you to believe it. Killing is just another service for commerce.” The man known as Hans paced back and forth across the church rooftop, occasionally looking to the town square in the distance and clicking the old brass encased pocket-watch cover open. Hans turned to look at his talking companion, a small pigeon pecking at the handful of trail mix Hans had set down for it. “Now see I knew you were going to make that argument, but again you’re using fiction for its core. I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s a great French writer, but ‘The better you are, the closer you get to your client?’ Sounds good to sell books, but… take our current predicament.” Hans motioned to the town square. “In…” Hans clicked open the pocket-watch once more. “12 minutes, there’s going to be a carriage arriving from the northwest with one Mr. Fabian Tanquerelle, height 5’10”, age 37. Mr. Tanquerelle is going to be testifying to the local judge about the actions of the local Guild Captain and almost certainly placing the metaphorical nail in the Captain’s coffin. Now if Mr. Tanquerette DOESN’T testify, lack of sufficient evidence, charges dropped, blah blah.” Hans looked at the pigeon who had shifted position a couple of spaces. “Oh pipe down, I’m getting to the good part. I just want to set up a good back story. So, in an effort to assist the testimonial, there are currently 3 times the number of Guild guard in town, the majority of them stationed around the town square, the carriage itself is reinforced steel, and Mr. Tanquerelle will undoubtedly be wearing some sort of body protection, and be completely surrounded by guards. If they move him the smart way, he’ll only be in the open for a maximum of 3 seconds. All this adds up to a phenomenal moment of commerce.” Hans began setting up the tripod for his sniper rifle, almost reflex at this point in his career. He glanced through the scope, looking at pennants hanging off the outside of the courthouse. “How much would you pay for one bullet that would keep you from the gallows? You face death, and I can be your own buyable guardian angel. What would that be worth? The Captain believes it’s worth 100 Scrip.” Hans pulled out a small book from a pocket, flipped it open, and began counting on his fingers, occasionally looking back to the pennants through the scope. “I could replace all my limbs with those pneumatic ones the miners have. I could officially go into the cattle business. I can drastically change my life for the cost of keeping his the same.” Hans laid down on the roof, moving the tripod to its final position. Glancing at his book once more, Hans began turning one of the knobs on the scope with the delicacy of a watchmaker. Hans scoffed “The rifle is the weapon of a beginner… You realize what I’ve got riding on this situation? This will officially be the longest shot I’ve ever taken against a moving target in a 3 second window. There’s a 5 Knot cross breeze to the northeast, so there’s windage to be taken into account. There are literally hundreds of things that could go wrong with this situation and I have to account for all of them. It’s not glamorous, but then economics never is. “ Hans clicked open his pocket-watch and set it next to the rifle. “4 minutes. They also never discuss the nerves in those dime novels. They want you to think the killers have ice water in their veins, can pull the trigger like breathing, pull off amazing feats of skill. 16 years, 5 off Earthside… still get that gnawing in my gut every time. 3 seconds, 1 shot. I get paid, or I make an enemy of a Guild Captain. Either both of our lives stay the way they are, or they both change for the worse.” A smile started to creep onto Hans’ face. “100 Scrip for the status quo… for normalcy.” Hans slipped 3 bullets out one at a time, placing them neatly in a line next to the rifle. “You my little friends are stabilizers… you are the guide rails of the paradigm. The carriage became visible on the horizon, a speck of black moving at a reasonable clip. “Here we go. Time to be a kingmaker. Now quiet down back there, I’ve got some work to do.” The subtle tick of the pocket watch gave Hans a rhythm to tap on the trigger guard as he watched the carriage approach. Hans could see the guards in the town square tense up as the plume of dust being kicked up by the carriage’s speed drew near. Hans ran over the checklist in his mind once more, the tapping of his finger continuing. “Okay maybe I lied, there’s a little zen.” Hans calmed his breathing, taking one last note of the wind off the pennants before loading the first bullet. As the carriage slowed to a stop, Hans chuckled to himself, sliding the bolt closed. “There’s a memo that will never be written… ‘Dear Captain Vincent. We here at Guild headquarters would like to thank you for your many years of service and adherence to the duty this job demands.’” Hans turned the scope on the guard near the front door who was pulling a pistol as Tanquerette approached. The shot was slightly off from where Hans wanted it, but it still did the job dropping the guard. “ ‘ We regret to inform you however that official Guild policy is misappropriation of funds for personal gain is something we severely frown upon, as it tarnishes the trust and respect the common populace places in their law enforcement.’” Hans swung the rifle to the roof of the courthouse to find the next guard, this one with a rifle. The guard was trying to get a clean shot at Tanquerette below, giving Hans more than enough time. Hans had the next bullet in before the casing that got ejected by the bolt clinked on the rooftop. The man on rooftop nearly hit the panicked crowd below as he toppled over. The more astute guards were beginning to figure out his position, while others were trying to rush Tanquerette into the building. Hans swung the rifle one last time, this time at the second floor of the police office where the Captain stood near a window in complete shock, anger building on his face as he watched the end of his life get ushered into the courthouse. Hans chambered the last bullet. “‘It is therefore with a heavy heart that we regret to inform you that your services are no longer required. You have been terminated.’” Hans began packing up his equipment, collecting the three casings before giving the panicked square one last look. “Sorry Vincent. You bid too low. I’ll make sure to use some of the down payment to buy you some flowers for your grave. Be thankful they just wanted you dead.”

Excellent work on the painting!

To throw in some Somer specific commentary: Somer's actually a solid crew to work with because he's a generalist. You take Somer because he's fairly good no matter what the scheme or strategy. Obviously there are choices that are 'better', but honestly, if I only could take one Master to a game (wave 2 not being counted), Somer's the guy. Somer's big strengths are the resources you have. Yes they're cheap, but they're plentiful. Since Somer tends to be more 'Gremlin keyword' heavy, the big thing that might get you is the 'Must declare triggers'. Usually these work awesomely, but I've had games where I'm CONSTANTLY shooting my guys as well because I just didn't have the trigger I needed. Fortunately, Somer has a built in response on his card Somer is a crew of attrition, not a crew of one huge KO blow.

As a guy who has Zoraida for one of his core 3 Masters, Let's see if I can shed some light on the subject: Zoraida is the Reconnoiter/ Squatters Rights master. You pick her (or Brewmaster dependant on your playstyle) because you need to get models to THAT point on the board for control. For 2 points (Raven Form), you have a near guarenteed Entourage. You place a Rooster Rider or 2 with her because if you can get that sweet spot where the Rider will rooster rampage, you have Zoraida Obey them to 'Walk', getting around the 'Only attack once' clause on the Obey. The Nurse is a solid choice if only for the fact that the Nurse and Lenny are a powerful combo. For those of us playing at home, Paralyzed is a condition and Bodyguard or "I need THIS piece alive" is PERFECT for Lenny with the Nurse. Hexed Among You is beginning of the game, and it's SERIOUS bread and butter. Going back to the beginning, You pick Zoraida because you want to set up "These models are on this part of the board." and Hexed gives you a jump start. Waldegeists and Bayou Gators are always solid go-to's, and I've been toying with a full Swampfiend list instead of the mix I've been doing. Hopefully this helps

True dat. Sweet baby Wong it's REALLY early in the morning. Pleasure chatting, but I believe I must adjourn and crash.

I definitely understand that. If it helps, I can be an irritating American and crack a Tim Hortons joke?

Thanks ... I've been wanting to write this story after reading the fluff in the Ophelia section in the 2E book, and I certainly tried to do it justice. How are things up in Toronto?

Well I just put the final flourish on my Iron Quill story, and am really proud of it! Anything exciting on your side of the computer?

Excellent suggestions. Final changes to the story applied, and honestly unless there's something glaring, I think I'm ready for the contest on this one.

It kinda WAS. There are also classes (The person building the dream builds the Jenga tower, the 'face' of the group may pull a jenga piece in the place of another person)... I'll dig around. It's a great one-shot for an improv savvy group.

If you guys don't mind me throwing my two cents into the conversation, I think there's a non-retail Inception game floating around that uses a jenga mechanic as well. Tower collapses = dream collapses

Itty bitty tweaks and a glaring spelling error that makes Baby Wong cry.

The flip still happens, the black joker just means you final total is the stat being used. In a double joker, the higher stat wins.

Ultimately, it is a discussion between you and your opponent on how the terrain works. Rules as written, there's no mechanical thing stopping the pigapult, but I would accept a common sense ruling that terrain with the enclosed trait could. And Jonasty, forgive me if I'm misreading, but how did your opponent pigapult Killjoy into nearly your deploy zone?

I appreciate the critiques everyone! I did some tightening up of the spots suggested, made a few tweaks I felt would help the story, and managed to find a spot for the phrase that I think works.

The Young Lacroix using the upgrade still counts as the upgrade being used, so it's discarded. And they can totally reattach it (so if you have a full set of 3 young and Ophelia, it's entirely possible to get 5 shots of one gun in a turn. 2 from Ophelia with a reload inbetween, and a shoot/reattach from each young. Hope this helps!

Well, let's see about throwing my (totally bigger) hat to the ring : Eyes on the Prize.