admiralvorkraft

This story is linked to the last one I wrote. I've never written in serial before, so this is something of an experiment. Ideally each of the stories will be self contained enough to work on its own while contributing to an overarching narrative. And, of course, meeting the Iron Quill criteria. I would love to hear questions, critiques, and any comments you might have. Rage Turns Cold Word count: 1750 Ingredients used: All Turn around, walk away, don’t look back. Bel is a large man. Even hunched from long days in the mines he’s over six feet tall and broad, with thick hands and muscles like iron from manning one of the newfangled steam drills. The other man is a head shorter and even if he is carrying a mattock there’s no way Bel will come away from this fight looking good. Don’t ever look back. The frozen soil crunches under his boots as Bel turns, forcing down the rage and bile that threaten to overwhelm him. He hums atonally to drown out the pounding in his ears. There’s a sigh all around the yard as disappointed miners turn back to their lunches. Then there’s the sharp beat of running behind him, and Bel turns in time to catch the mattock on his forearm instead of his back. The wooden haft creaks and bounces off. Weak wood, Bel makes a note, the rage is no longer overwhelming, it has settled into his bones and his mind is detached, observing. “Yer a stinking son of sodomy,” the smaller man says, his tag reads Drake, “An’ I’ll have yer apology, or I’ll have yer head.” Bel grunts, “Very poetical.” His fist connects with Drake’s gut and Drake doubles over, “Only I don’t know what you want me to apologize for, and I wouldn’t if I did.” Bel grabs the miner by the scruff of his neck and throws him across the break yard. Drake picks himself up, laughing. He’s a demo-man, tough and crazy, bad combination. “Aside from ya damn near killed me?!” Drake snaps the mattock over his knee and throws it aside, “Ya can’t push that fast without running over yer match man. Ya go bonus crazy we both end up dead.” “I knew what I was doing.” Bel’s voice is level, that explains why I’ve never seen you. The drilling teams are kept anonymous on purpose, no sense in them getting attached to each other. Next thing you know there’ll be an M&SU branch office opening down the road, and no end of trouble for one Conrad Hibble. “Only one of us is walkin’ away from this.” Drake says, bending his knees. “Sure.” Somewhere in this world it’s warm and Mary’s waiting. He’ll fight for her, just the same as he goes down every day into the mines for her. For her, for the memory of her soft red hair and the swelling of her belly in that cottage by the sea. Drake charges. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There are many towns called Promise. None of them are pleasant. Little company towns clinging to the mountains of Malifaux, ungainly birds squatting on mine heads that they hope will bear fruit. If the miners strike soulstones the town sees some improvement, the M&SU moves in and there are two gangs in town. This town, this Promise, has been pulling iron ore out of the ground since just after the Breach reopened and the Guild hasn’t gotten a single stone out of them. The only bar is a Company bar, even the whores are Company whores, and the streets they walk are unremitting grey and dust. Still there is one place in town that can safely be called beautiful. There’s a courtyard near Hibble house where the children of foremen and surveyors play. It’s layered with imported earth and even the air feels warmer. There are citrus trees growing in the garden that produce lemons the size of your fist and as sweet as the sun. Flynn is laying half asleep under one of these when he hears the shouting. “Sheriff!” His eyes snap open. “You’re needed down at the yard.” A figure stops just in front of him, red faced and panting. His black jacket is unbuttoned and his cravat has spilled out of his shirt, One of Hibble’s manservants. “I’m no sheriff.” Flynn says, closing his eyes and hoping the apparition goes away. “With all due respect sir,” the servant says between pants, “Mr. Hibble said you would say that, and sends this message.” Flynn opens his eyes as something cold and heavy lands on his stomach, “Wear that, and pretend.” Flynn sits up and pins the star to his chest, “He see fit to send my gun too?” “He said this would be more appropriate for your new duties, sir.” The servant hands him a wide leather belt with a pistol and an ugly, broad bladed knife hanging from it. “Did he.” Flynn stands and puts on the belt, his fingers move slowly, heavy with the knowledge that there will be no going back from this. “You know where the yard is?” “I do.” “Then hurry.” Flynn starts to move but the servant grabs his arm, “And remember, don’t let blood touch the ground.” “Sure.” Flynn has heard the nursery rhymes, But I’ve spilled blood from Malifaux City to the Far Peaks and never seen the black beast. he breaks into a jog, I didn’t think they kept that superstition this far out. maybe he’s fresh from the city too. Nothing in town is hard to find, there’s only one real road. At the center of town is the Junction, where the road from Malifaux City enters town, the bar and the general store and the stables squat there. To your right as you come into town there’s a clapboard church and a few necessaries and beyond that the homes of the wealthy and the garden. To your left is a sea of company housing, tarpaper shacks, and at the end of the road the mine. Flynn slows as he approaches the yard, he can hear the sounds of a struggle, the meaty thud of skin on skin. He draws the pistol and checks the load. It’s a six shooter, and lighter than the Collier he trained on as a guardsman. The grip is inlaid with pearl, or some other white stone, and it’s warm to the touch as though someone has recently handled it. When he slides the chamber into his hand six brass blasting caps wink up at him, there are twelve more cartridges in his belt. He replaces the chamber. The yard is isolated by a vast iron fence. The guard at the gate is already swinging it open as Flynn approaches. “Good to have you on board sir,” she says in passing, “Tired of having to deal with this stuff myself.” Flynn tips his hat to her, I wonder how long I’ll last. There are a handful of miner’s too old and bored to be taken in by the fight who sit eating their pasties at the edge of the yard. The other three hundred odd have formed a tight circle in the center of the yard and Flynn can see company scrip changing hands. It still throws him to see currency that’s not Guild issued, the scrip here is only good at the company stores and must be exchanged before the workers leave town. Flynn fires once into the air and the crowd falls silent. He hears a hit, and a grunt of pain. “Make a hole.” He doesn’t shout, he doesn’t have to, the crowd splits wordlessly. Flynn watches as the smaller of the two fighters throws a beautiful seven-hit combination into the belly of his opponent only to have the larger man take it without flinching. Bel wraps Drake in a crushing bear hug and takes him to the ground, pinning the smaller man with his knees. That detached part of his brain watches as he slams his fist into Drake’s face over and over again, pulverizing it the way his steam drill breaks up rock. He is aware at some level that he has broken at least one knuckle, but he can’t feel it. He doesn’t hear the warning shot that goes over his head, but he feels the searing brand of the muzzle pressed against his temple a moment later. Bel lets his arms fall to his sides. “Fight’s over.” Flynn says, “For those of you with money on the line I’d say the big one wins. Settle up now, I don’t mind. Just don’t try and cheat each other, or let it get out of hand.” He leans down to whisper in Bel’s ear, holstering his pistol. “What’s your name son?” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the end Drake pulls through, both men are docked a week’s pay, and Bel makes a point of finding Flynn at the Red Dog. His right hand has two fingers splinted but otherwise he looks no worse for wear. “I wanted to thank you,” Bel says. “Sit.” Flynn motions to the chair opposite him. This corner table has become his by custom in the weeks since he has taken up residence in Promise. Bel sits. “Seems like it should be the other fellow thanking me.” “You saved his life,” Bel says. “I take it he’s not the first man to find himself in that position.” “When blood runs black and rage turns cool... “ Bel rubs his face, “Two of them, earthside.” “That why you came through?” “No, could never make money good enough back home. As a fisherman, as a Guard… Took the miner’s bonus when my boy was born and came through, figured I’d earn enough to send for them… I’ve still never seen him.” “How long ago?” Flynn leans back. “Six years.” “You spent that whole time out here?” “No one survives these mines for six years. Transferred out here sixteen months ago.” “Then why did you come?” “I was looking for someone, a friend of mine. Engineer, smart, you’ve never seen a better mineworks…” Bel shakes his head. “What happened to him?” Flynn says. “Her. No idea. Came out here to help set up a new exploration two years ago. I haven’t heard from her since.” Bel licks his lips and casts a dark glance around the bar, “There’s more to this town than meets the eye.” “Long time to be looking for someone,” Flynn says, “You love her?” “Owe her my life, many times over. Can you keep an eye out for me?” “What’s she look like?” “Real pale and slender, dark eyes, looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. Call her Samantha and she’ll slap you.” “I’ll see what I can do.” Flynn will find her, weeks later or months, looking into an unrelated killing. She will be wrapped in steel wire and lead weights at the bottom of a lake North of town.

The Chihuahua is also the easiest way to get some poison on the good doctor to take advantage of his pushes. I think it's actually one of the more keystone totems I've run.

I like it, weird and kind of funny looking, but still definitely dangerous.

I'm sorry, didn't have his card in front of me. Only 13 wounds, but the two damage tracks effectively do add some level of durability. Lucius needs the right suit on every single one of his actions to function. The numbers aren't a big deal, in fact his perfect hand is 7-8 of rams and a 7 of books/masks and for every one of those cards you don't pull you need to burn a stone for his actions to be efficient - burning a high card on issue command to get the right suit is a good way to guarantee that your models who actually interact with the enemy will miss. Devil's Deal drops basically any Guild minion to within 1 weak damage hit of death, so it's a nice ability but it's really a desperation move. I have never successfully run Lucius with less than 6-7 stones. Inspiring Presence is nice, but I've only ever found it to be a decent bonus, or a way to twist one last AP out of one of the models that matters. If I have the 8 of anything but crows in hand I'm much more likely to use it to Issue Command, and if I don't have the card in hand... Well maybe I've got lousy luck, but I always fail that horror duel, even with a Sergeant or Lawyer on hand. Lastly, is Lucius fragile? In the same way that Molly is fragile maybe. His primary defense and his ability to accomplish anything both drain your hand, so he's durable before he activates - but then his activation won't do much, relatively fragile after he activates. Unlike Perdita he doesn't have any way to punish models for attacking him, and the difference between df 6 and 7 is huge. Again, I don't think Lucius is bad but I do think that he operates under a lot of arbitrary limitations and suit requirements that simply aren't necessary from a balance perspective. I would be over the moon if I could top-deck his personal actions without always burning a stone first. I love his look, I love his style, and I love the way he's supposed to run but getting his abilities to go off is like pulling teeth compared to McCabe, McMourning, or Colette all of whom seem to support their crews better than he does, and accomplish more on their own activations. And as for learning to play? I have, I've reached for Lucius in pretty much every circumstance and my win-loss ratio has dramatically improved over the months that I've rammed my head against this brick wall. It has made me very aware of his arbitrary limitations and obscene suit requirements, and it has meant that I can proxy in pretty much any other master in the game and just have fun.

Aside from getting a lucky draw (10+ of masks or rams) and getting a marker down with Hidden Sniper I've never been able to get Lucius' scheme marker tricks to play out. Legalese can potentially stop breakthrough/protect territory but Lucius is usually busy completing those schemes himself. As for durability? Highest Authority helps a lot, but I'm not sure that it helps as much as 6 extra wounds and twice as much movement. I should say, I love Lucius. I also feel like he's outclassed by basically every other master in the game and winning with him requires pretty much flawless play on your part, a few mistakes on your opponent's part, and no unusually bad draws.

I don't think I have ever been in a position to make use of Lucius' melee buff. Typically he's off accomplishing schemes, or spending his activation trying to get his minions disengaged from combat...

I like it! It's certainly a different take on the Iron Quill challenge. Your use of repetition is interesting, did you intend to break the pattern at the third stanza or am I seeing something that doesn't exist? Either way, it enhances the surprise of the gunshot so it works for me.

I'm in too.

Honestly? He brings a sense of style that no one (with the exception of Colette) can rival. I do find myself wishing he was just slightly better in one of any number of ways, but he's great fun regardless - and super satisfying to win with, when you win with him.

Lucius does seem unusually resource intensive. I've usually burnt through my cache by turn 3 and am pulling stones out of my own models just to make ends meet. It's the one thing that makes Guild Guard an attractive prospect...

In my experience it takes a lot of set-up to get the most out of it. If you have the resources Lucius can get the scheme markers down that he wants in a single activation of course, but it's intensive. That being said, I usually take the upgrade and it almost always nets me 1-2 extra attacks over the course of the game. Whether that's worth the stones or not is your call.

Team Work might be nice on Francois? Sort of a poor Gremlin's Enfrante a mi?

After succeeding, after failing, and after resolving triggers are all resolved AFTER step five - resolve damage. I don't have the book on me so I can't give you chapter and verse, but I'm pretty sure The Godlyness has the page in their sig.

Worried About Wong?

I love the standing piglet. The other two are nice, but the standing one has the perfect "I'm gonna f*ck you up" expression on the really cute sculpt.

I can't wait!

I swore off mini's gaming for a long time before finding Malifaux, and part of why I love it is that I don't have to apologize much for the models themselves. I think Wyrd is going down a good road design wise, but I'm never going to complain about greater gender equity in future models.

It's true, that's why I said he was static(ish) rather than static. It still means building the turn around compensating for Devil's Deal rather than on how to directly accomplish objectives. It's certainly not a bad thing, it is something to be aware of.

I've tried one wastrel in a Lucius crew, and it went okay. You can occasionally get the healing to cancel out Devil's Deal, but you really have to plan your turns around a static(ish) Wastrel to get it to work, which is kind of annoying. I play a relatively mobile Lucius though, if you run a gunline then it might be more worthwhile.

I actually like it a lot more than adding another sister to the Viks crew. The sisters are nuts enough as-is, any more will either end up duplicating the roles that the existing sisters play, or filling in the weaknesses that the crew desperately needs to remain balanced.

Agreed, I'm not sure why miniatures riflemen insist on couching their rifles in their elbows. But I've seen it across a number of companies, so w/e.

If I ran him as Neverborn I'd probably bring the Widow Weaver with me, but I've never seen or heard it done.

If he could summon, even poorly, he would find a way into every one of my Lucius lists. Whether that's a good thing or not is up for debate. The real hole with Lucius isn't in getting minions to do more things, it's making it to turn four with models still on the board. He's really bad at the attrition game and if Dashel helped that more directly...

I think if I ever ran Lucius in kill-oriented situations Dashel would find a way into the list, but if I want things to die I usually just point Sonnia at them...

I've never used him in game, but every time I've thought about him I've come to that same conclusion. I mean, he's a passable damage dealer, and he's kind of tough, but he's a support henchman who only works really well with a dedicated support master... I'd rather have someone that gets things done.