Iron Quill - The Past Reborn - Brood - WIP

[ProximoCoal]

This is my WIP for this months Iron Quill, using 'The Past Reborn' and 'Crag'. Feedback appreciated

 

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 ‘It is done.’

 

Silken whisps of smoke swirled in the darkness, suffocating the already heavy atmosphere of the midnight-clad room. A hound of some kind barked out in the sodden cobbled street but a sheet of the relentless rain obscured what darkness hadn’t already claimed.

 

 The two figures in the room sat in silence for what must have seemed an eternity before a spark and flame from a match highlighted the sagging skin on the face of a grim aged man, lit a cigarette and disappeared again.

 

 ‘Excellent’

 

 By the temerity and tone of the first voice it must have the younger and it responded with the impatience of youth,

 

 ‘I’ll assign a lance of guard and a few engineers…’

 

 ‘No, I will not risk any potential Arcanist infiltrator. A couple of guardsman will be sufficient. Matheson will know who.’

 

 The orange embers of the cigarette were extinguished and chair legs screeched on the floor before the old man’s face appeared out of the darkness, his nose not an inch from the young mans, and locked eyes with the boy.

 

 ‘I will not accept failure. It is in your best interest to make this succeed’

 

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 The Crag speared the bloody orange sky above the labouring automatons. The already stagnant bayou seemed to thicken in the heat of the setting sun and barely moved as the large rust-buckets effortlessly heaved crates onto the skiff. The guardsman face glowed red as he shifted uncomfortably in his heavy dusters. His mouth was bone dry and he kicked the empty bottles resentfully. He must have been sent to hell. Even the rocks were uncomfortable, sharp and jagged like the spines a dragon of myths.

 

 ‘We been’ punished, Boss?’ his wiry partner questioned him as he shook the dregs of a dirty brown bottle into his mouth.

 

 ‘Nah, we be’en tested. Mistah’ Mat’eson said ‘f we do ‘his, he’ll know oo’s side we on’ his mind was thrown back to when the secretary had spoken to him. He had always thought something wasn't right with him, but this was different. This time he had brought his golden mask level with his face and mere inches away. He could feel the man’s stare bore into his skull and dissect his brain but even that far away he could see no eyes. Just the dark hollows of the mask. He shivered despite the intense heat of the desert.

 

 ‘Can’t we make ‘um go fasta?’ The brown bottle pinged impotently off the searing metal chassy of the slaving robots.

 

 ‘Sure! Like dogs, innit? Jus’ give ‘um a tap to make ‘um go’ The guardsman attempted to dust off his jacket after he dragged himself from the floor. He was a fat and brutish man and clearly was used to using the butt of his sword as a club. The hard clang that followed was swallowed greedily by the empty desert. The blow itself causing only a minor dent whilst the man swore and clutched the small cut on his hand. The sand-slurry of the shore, however, gave way and dragged one of the pair of machines slowly into the river. It almost looked like it reached out for help as it was consumed. The two men stared with eyes and mouth wide at their lives sinking away. They did not see, however, a faint purple glow emerge from the last metal labourer.

 

++BROOD ATTACKED++

++DEFENCE PROTOCOL ACTIVE++

 

‘What ya’ dun! Dey’ gonna’ kill us!’

 

++THREAT AKNOWLEDGED++

 

‘Don’ just stand there, ‘elp me drag it out!’

 

++ERROR – OPERATOR ESSENTIAL TO PRIMARY GOAL++

 

‘To ‘eavy boss! We gotta’ run!’

 

++ERROR – BROOD ESSENTIAL TO PRIMARY GOAL++

 

‘AHHHHHH! Get off me ya’ bucket ‘o bolts! ‘Elp me you idiot’

 

 ++HUNGRY- FUEL NEEDED++

 

‘Stop Squirmin! I can’t get a grip ‘un you!’

 

++ERROR- SUFFICIENT FUEL IN FURNACE++

 

‘MY ARM! Oh God! Get it off me!’

 

++ERROR-HUNGRY-FUEL NEEDED++

 

The hulking machine calmly unclasped it’s fuel hatch whilst the fat guardsman dangled by a single arm, the other guardsman tanked futily at the fat man's dangling legs. Once it's task was complete, the second hand of the automaton turned its attention to the prey. There was a hideous popping nosie as the arm was wrenched out of its socket and the skinny man choked on the blood gushing from the shoulder. The skin peeled off the outside of the arm as it was forced in the fuel hatch, smearing blood over the rusty chassy. The thin man cleared the gore from his eyes just into time to see the great iron hand just before it crushed his skull with a sweeping backhand. The machine was methodical as it forced the remains into its furnace, each grisly joint of bloody meat forced into its fuel port, organs squelched as they were forced into the hatch and hissed when devoured by the flames. By the time it finished it was slick with blood and death.

 

The hunger was burning in him now, he could no longer smell the bood and fear in his enemies. No longer could his leathery wings signal doom from the sky. There was one thing that he still had though, the one thing that the soulstone had retained from it's previous form, now forever trapped in this iron cage. The triumph after a successful hunt.

 

 Now he was alone. His brood devoured by the ever maw. Shackles broken but still bound in this hideous iron frame.

 

++ERROR – PRIMARY MISSION CHANGED – CHANGE PARAMETERS++

++PRIMARY MISSION – FOR THE BROOD – ACTIONS?++

++ERROR – ACTIONS UNCLEAR – REDEFINE++

++COMPLETE PREVIOUS MISSION? – VERIFIED++

++PRIMARY MISSION – VENGEANCE++ 

 

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 He could feel the merciless judgement from the darkness, his please and excuses as effective as throwing a message in a bottle out to sea.

 

 The sea was disdain, hatred and criticism and he was drowning in it.

 

 But there was still hope, surely there should still be hope?

 

 "When the patrol passed the test site they found nothing but blood where the guards had once been. They successfully recovered an automaton sunk in the swamp and the stone has been salvaged."

 

 "What of the other?" The growl filled the room with accusation. It wasn't a question, the darkness knew, but it demanded it uttered and laid naked before it.

 

 "Each machine contained one stone, so..."

 

 "Don't dawdle, Boy" The bark was like a chainsaw obliterating his flimsy wibbling defences, "What of the second machine? What of the investment?" What could he say, the question was knife to his throat. One wrong move and he was dead man.

 

 "It's gone"

 

 "Gone" The single statement felt like it summoned eyes from every shaddow in the darkness to cast judgement. Laid him flat and dissected each letter, each syllable, each tiny portion of weakness and discarded it with contempt.

 

 "When the guardsman arrived the second machine was nowhere to be seen. Of course we have out best pathfinders following it and we will surely...." The screeching of chair on the stone floor cut him off. It was so dark that it blinded all of his senses, he couldn't tell where the disturbance breaking the heavy atmosphere had come from. The gavel has being lifted. he couldn't help but quiver in fear.

 

 "You lost a soulstone of unimaginable value. You wasted major guild investment. You have let untold power slip from your fingers. Do you know what the Arcanists would do if they discovered we'd bound Nephilim? Do you know what they'd gain?"

 

 A clicking noise was followed by cold metal being pressed against his forehead. Strangely he realized he had stopped shaking, everything felt so clear now. the fog had lifted and he could see his strand of fate puppeting him to this very moment.

 

 "You were told that failure was not an option. I cannot let you fail again and I cannot let  what little you know survive. consider this your dismissal." the muzzle flash illuminated all for a split second. The mystery of the meeting place revealed and the truth burned into his retinas before death claimed him. Not one soul even noticed the gunshot, so common in this area of Malifaux. No soul but one.

 

The Broodless watched and waited. Vengeance was coming. The hunt has begun 

[Hateful Darkblack]

This is a really good start! I hope you don't mind if I throw out a bunch of feedback.

I think your opening needs a little rework on the description. Twice, you use a mixed metaphor where you seem to be mixing words for clothes with words for rooms. ("the midnight-clad room", "The two figures shrouded in the room") and I suspect you could rephrase that in a way that gave your story a stronger opening.

I like the sense of menace and expectation that the Union workers seem to share, and I think you developed that well, with both fear and optimism as they talk about it. It really makes sense that the sort of people who would work in Malifaux would have all those feelings about danger.

I also want to suggest you change the speaking style of automatons. They seem to be talking like modern computers, which doesn't exactly fit the steampunk theme of the robots of Malifaux. You may want to consider some other style for them to communicate their thoughts and plans. Maybe through gears and springs, or the moans of the soulstones that power them, or perhaps a creepy whisper or something. Or maybe just a variety of bell rings, with a translation for the audience's sake?

Lastly, It was a little unclear at the end what happened. It sounded like maybe the workers tried to hit the constructs to get them to work harder, who interpreted that as an attack and attacked back? It might be better to express somehow that the automata were programmed to react that way somehow. Maybe coroners or foremen discussing what happened afterward while they're filing the death report or something?

I kind of want some sort of closing-out where you go back to the shrouded figures from the beginning and have them discuss what happened afterward. That might tie the sections together and give a litle more context and closure.

Anyway, that's all my feedback! Great start and I can't wait to see how this work in progress develops. I hope the feedback is helpful!

[ProximoCoal]

Hi,

 

Thanks for the feedback, really appreciated. 

 

 You're right about the mixed metaphor, the second has been removed.

 

 I have taken your advice about the shrouded figures, I think it helps. I have also been much more plain about what actually happened.  

 

 I think I'm going to stick with the 'computer-speak'. It's something I wanted to do and, although I can see where you are coming from with steam-punk vibe, I still imagine them having the same sort of boolean logic thing.

 

 As I say though, thanks for taking the time to read and help me improve the story!

[Hateful Darkblack]

OooooOooOooO. Rad. I like it much better now that I know what's going on.

[ProximoCoal]

Brilliant, thanks! It was inspired by this song: