Iron Quill Preliminary Round; To the Governer, with love.

[Grantt]

Jacob woke with a pained grunt, his head swimming. In a sudden panic, he gauged just how long it would take him to reach his miserable privy before he heaved up the contents of last nights drinking.

Only this wasn't his damp encrusted, filthy hovel of a home. Instead, plush, silken sheets spilled from his chest and a rosy, decorated fireplace sat where his privy should have been. Pictures lined the walls, bearing proud, regal profiles and preposterous families all bunched together with sour expressions. A small, cushioned chair sat before a perfumed dressing table. The scent of cherry and elder blossom made his stomach churn. Through the haze of cheap gin, he began to realise that this was not, as he originally assumed, his home.

Steps from an adjoining chamber made him jump, instinctively reaching for his pistol, yet finding only bare skin. Grumbling, he searched for his clothing, stumbling from the bed where he proceeded to knock over a small end table, sending the vase upon it crashing to the floor. He only had a moment to ponder the need of a small, pointless table, his mercenary practicality missing the decorative value, before the door opened.

A stiff-backed servant entered, a tray of tea and toast held in one hand. Jacob stood suddenly, facing him with as much bravado as he could muster, despite wearing only a thin silk sheet that slipped away as the servant entered.

"Oh," offered the indentured butler, masking his surprise perfectly with a veneer of disgust, "May I suggest the marmalade, sir? And some clothes?"

Jacob felt last nights gin rise uncomfortably at the smell of the offered breakfast. "Where'm I?" he grunted, unable to manage much else.

The servant raised a knowing eyebrow and indicated to a pile of clothes sat neatly folded on a nearby chair sat next to a window overlooking a large, cultured garden. Jacob started to get a bad feeling. "Allow me to answer your second question, sir' which will be; "how did I get here?" and thankfully contains the answer to both queries," as he spoke, the servant placed the tray on the dresser and moved to collect shards of the vase, whilst Jacob tugged on his clothes between bouts of regaining his failing balance.

"You arrived in a coach sometime after midnight," he began, his accent betraying his British heritage, "You were accompanied by a rather delightful young lady who, due to your rather inebriated state, spoke for you."

Jacob slipped into his threadbare shirt and buttoned it into place, desperately trying to recollect who the girl was. He was beginning to feel disappointed that he couldn't remember the night before. He shrugged on his pistols as the servant continued.

"Now, it isn't often that we have such dignitaries visit at such hours, but your lady-friend was quite insistent and your documents were quite valid. We arranged rooms at once, though we only had some of the governors personal chambers available. The ones we use for his visiting family. She said it would be quite alright. Your madam, as it were."

Jacob went cold. This was the governors mansion? Of course it was; he recognised those gardens and the oriental girl with the shears who sometimes frequented the Qi Gong. Why was he here? Was this the result of some alcohol fueled prank? They thought we has someone important? He began to sweat; the cold, uncomfortable kind that heralded that something bad was about to happen.

"Will that be all, sir?" Jacob started, suddenly pulled out of his reverie. He nodded agreement, as speech was out of the question, and began scurrying into the rest of his clothes. They still hadn't worked it out; if he could get dressed and sneak out, he might be fine. What an anecdote this would be!

He was cramming toast into his mouth when a girls voice pierced the morning quiet. "Oh Jacob," it began, purring and dangerous, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Seeing her brought it all back to him. He remembered her at the bar, in a glittering bodice smothered in red and blue tassels and a petticoat skirt that barely covered her stockinged legs. Her beautiful red hair sat in tight curls beneath a dark top hat, whilst her quickly smiling face had bewitched him from the start.

He should have noticed something was up when she kept buying him drinks. It wasn't long before she had convinced him to pretend to be an Earthside governer "for a lark". That's when she had changed into something more regal and everyone had gotten serious. They'd plied him with gin all the way to the stagecoach. By the time they'd reached the mansion, he couldn't even speak, let alone voice his concern about the whole escapade. Everything else was a blank.

Now she stood by the window, dressed once again in the bodice and top hat, with another sly grin on that stunning face of hers. "You'll be pleased to know that I got what I came for," she flourished a set of papers in one hand that quickly disappeared into a sleeve, "though it took a little longer than a thought."

The clatter of horses on cobbles from outside was met by hurried shouts and angry retorts. Jacob went a little cold as he heard them; the showgirl simply glanced over her shoulder and pouted like a spoiled brat.

"Oh dear," she sulked playfully, "someone came home early. I guess this is where I give you a kiss goodbye," she swept toward him, leaning close to give him a swift kiss on the nose.

"Why me?" was all he managed.

"Well, darling, I need to make sure no one comes looking for me. When they find you, they'll think it's just some drunken idiots prank." she moved back to the window, checking for a moment before turning back to him. The sound of hurried steps reached the room. "As for the choice of man; well, do you remember a young girl by the name of Audrey on Swelter's Lane?" she traced a line down the side of her cheek, in the same place Jacob had cut the girl on the night he bought her, drunk and frustrated. "Because she will never forget you, my dear."

The bootfalls had gotten awfully close. Men began pounding on the door, explaining that they were guardsmen. "Don't panic though; I left you a present in your holster!"

He fumbled for it, realising instantly that his belt was too light for his gun to still be there. As he scrambled at the leather straps, his hand closed around something small and hard, like a salt shaker. When he pulled it out to get a better look, he realised it was a chess piece; a pawn.

When he looked back, she was gone. A beautifully dressed mannequin stood gently rocking in her place. The door behind him crashed open and his life got infinitely worse.

Edited June 5, 2012 by Grantt

[Chucklemonkey]

Very nice. I enjoyed it immensely.

I felt that his confusion and panic were conveyed very nicely.

Only a very few errors that caused me to break the flow of my reading. ("He was cramming toast not his mouth")

Hopefully others will be along shortly with more helpful comments than I can offer.

[ThePandaDirector]

Ok, well this is the first story I've read so far, and I'll be sending all my scores to edonil. For people who haven't read it, there will be spoilers in all my comments.

Overall I will say I enjoyed it and I liked the concise imagary, characterisation and, most of all, the well paced humour.

But that doesn't help you get better, so I'll try my best to give some constructive criticism.

My first thought was initially "great, another hangover", as from my small gimpses of the other stories they also contain alcohol. When I first read the theme I thought an alcoholic hangover first, then I thought of the Hanged, so I have been sure to avoid both when doing my story (which deals in more metaphorical themes). It's generally my opinion that theme links to message and symbolism, not simply plot, so while you pull it off, I found the story lacked extra depth that themes are designed to provide.

Initially I wasn't sure where in the room he was, but I kinda missed the "plush, silken sheets spilled from his chest" part, but that's not an issue. Might have added to the humour for the servant to draw the curtains and the sunlight (indicating morning) to cause Jacob more discomfort.

There were two parts that I couldn't determine the need for. Firstly:

He only had a moment to ponder the need of a small, pointless table, his mercenary practicality missing the decorative value, before the door opened.

It seems a rather forced effort to point out his "mercenary practicality" and it was strange to go from the tension established as the footsteps draw closer to suddenly imagining him scrutinizing a table.

The other point was mentioning "the oriental girl with the shears who sometimes frequented the Qi Gong". I hope Kirai will forgive me, but I don't see her making that much of an impression on a man who seems to treat women with little regard, so again a rather forced element that stuck out - and it's the Qi and Gong.

The departure of the servant was a little hard to determine, but I'm fine with that (don't need to spell everything out). What was more jarring was the arrival of the showgirl (Colette?). I didn't know where her voice was coming from, why it didn't alert anyone and at what point she entered the room. Though I did like her characterisation and especially how you got her motivation for using him across nice and concisely.

Yet I didn't really like how he was able to remember everything in such apparent clarity, when it might have been a good spot to reinforce his confusion and maybe even build some leftover drunken anger only to deflate to fear when she leaves him alone to his fate (the "why me?" would have had greater resonance after a futile attempt to use his brawn). But yeah, could have filled out the pre-ending part a little bit.

As for the chess piece, I would have gone with a Queen since that relates more to the piece that has taken him out as opposed to what he is (a pawn).

So overall you created a rather simplistic version of the theme, had a few forced elements, some confusion and some parts that could have been more dynamic, but the great characterisation, imagery, humour and disciplined writing make it more than worth a read.

Hope that helps =D

Edited June 7, 2012 by ThePandaDirector

[Grantt]

Wow; amazing criticism and all valuable! Thanks Panda.

Are you available for proof-reading other stuff? My agent is nowhere near as thorough!

[ThePandaDirector]

You're welcome =] I'm just annoyed that all my posts no longer have spaces. Are you a professional writer or is the "agent" in question a better half? While I love to tear apart other people's work (I learn from mistakes whether they're my own or not), as thechosenone perhaps knows I don't always have the time to read other people's work. But something like this is nice and short, so if you've got more like it I'd be happy to get to it when I can =]

[Grantt]

I'm not pro yet, but working on it. I have an agent, but he's unpaid and lacklustre. I usually send him art to get published in gaming books, but he's also working on my writing. Haven't heard from him in weeks, though.

Never had written work published, but never really tried. Won a few competitions in local things and online things, but nothing major. I've given myself a year to publish something professionally; I have a wedding to pay for and, as I'm a wargamer, I'm terrible at saving money!

[ThePandaDirector]

Maybe someone else is paying him I haven't actually finished a story in... 3 years? Had to write a few short scripts while studying film production at uni, but I've mostly focussed on conceptulisation and criticising others And is the wedding yours or a loved ones? Either way congratulations =D

[UberGruber]

He only had a moment to ponder the need of a small, pointless table, his mercenary practicality missing the decorative value, before the door opened.

I think the problem here is really 'mercenary' (with connotations of having monetary gain as a prime motivator - therefore making it likely he would notice the table's value - because a decorative table would necessarily be valuable not merely aesthetically but in cash terms) and also 'ponder', which tends to imply careful thought. I think being mercenary, he'd take in the value (in practical, cash terms) of the table even as the door opens.

I have to go to work so more later but this was something I'd also found a wee bit off on the first read so I thought I'd comment now.

[UberGruber]

It's generally my opinion that theme links to message and symbolism, not simply plot,

I agree with this to an extent but I'm inclined to dispute any notion that depth and quality are inextricably linked or that a strong theme a good story makes, or indeed that the best stories must have strong themes. But I see my carers advancing with threats of more medication so I shall simply say that I personally didn't find the story lacking because it had no deep theme (or rather that the main theme was not the hangover).

I would, however raise two issues of what might be called consistency.

1) He was masquerading as an 'earthside governor' and yet he was in his own clothes. His shirt is described as 'threadbare' when he finds it and it early established that his home is damp and run-down so we may fairly assume that he cuts no great sartorial elegance.

So how did he get passed off as a visiting dignitary? The servant who speaks to him seems well experienced in his trade and would surely have smelt a rat. I think he need to hav ebeen provided with appropriate clothes, and that finding them rather than his normal ones would add to his confusion.

2) You say he 'shrugged on his pistols'. Two things; would a governor wear a gunbelt? I could see a shoulder holster maybe but a gunbelt not so much. Also pistols, plural. So has he one six-shooter left when the men are knocking, has Colette left him only two pawns? Or has he only one gun?

I liked the story concept well enough and it's generally well written too. But I confess I found this:

When they find you, they'll think it's just some drunken idiots prank

a bit weak to be honest. Presumably at some point after Jacob has been caught or killed, it will be discovered that the papers are missing. Very well. Now assuming he is dead then he can't be questioned. But why then assume a mere drunken prank and not deliberate theft? Also where are the papers if not on Jacob's body? With his accomplice, the red-haired lady, presumably. So I don't see how it works as a device to allay suspicion. It's even worse if Jacob's alive because then why would he not confess everything and give a full account? Even if he doesn't know Collette's name, he can presumably give as good a description as anyone and can say how they met and confirm she has and stole the papers. I really feel this needs tightening up as it's crucial to the plot that he's being set up both as decoy and for his past misdeeds.

While I like your style a lot, there's a couple of phrases that struck me as a bit off (in a pretty minor way).

1) Pictures lined the walls, bearing proud, regal profiles and preposterous families all bunched together with sour expressions -- I presume only the families are bunched together with sour expressions, but I wonder if 'Pictures lined the walls: proud, regal profiles and preposterous families with sour expressions' might not convey the impression a bit better. Maybe not. I also wondered a bit about why he thought the families preposterous, but it's a good word, much underused and so I say keep it.

2) silken sheets spilled from his chest - I know exactly what you mean by this but for some reason 'spilled from' doesn't quite seem right to me . . . it's as if the sheets are being disgorged by his chest in a way. Clearly that is preposterous and so the intended meaning is obvious but I wonder if you couldn't find an alternative to 'spilled from' just to avoid the slightly bizarre image popping into those unfortunate enough to have brains that work like mine.

3) the 'mercenary practicality' I mentioned above.

I did like this quite a lot (but though comparisons may be odious, I found your recent battle report rather better).

Perhaps think about better establishing Jacob as the sort of ne'er do well young rake who might well con his way into a rich man's house by pretending to be a friend or relative or suchlike, so that the assumption would more likely be that it was merely a drunken lark (and so the papers would not be missed). But what then to do about his potentially wagging tongue? You need some means for Colette to ensure his silence, I think.

[ThePandaDirector]

I think the problem here is really 'mercenary' (with connotations of having monetary gain as a prime motivator - therefore making it likely he would notice the table's value - because a decorative table would necessarily be valuable not merely aesthetically but in cash terms) and also 'ponder', which tends to imply careful thought. I think being mercenary, he'd take in the value (in practical, cash terms) of the table even as the door opens.

That's a bit of a leap. Also in a room of such wealth and luxury, the chance of him noticing the worth in a piece of furniture (that is likely more subtle in its decorative element, so not valuable looking) is rather slim. Mercenary however does have connotations of opportunist, but even then his drunken state and apparent low intellect (beats women, allows himself to get drunk) somewhat contradicts the more precise implications of "ponder". More than anything it is the pace that it detracts from, and the wording detracts, rather than adds to his growing panic to being caught. Slightly rephrased and placed elsewhere it would work, but the line between hearing the footsteps and the door opening would work better with him looking for an escape route or a weapon. Just some thoughts =]

[UberGruber]

beats women, allows himself to get drunk

Hmm... I don't think woman beating and drinking are exclusive to the ill-educated or unintelligent. I'd also regard Malifaux as a setting where a (presumably ornate) table like that is going to be rare enough to be notable as worth something, and the very act of him tipping it over is surely sufficient to drag his attention to it.

But I think the fact we both agree there's something rather amiss with the wording here is probably more important than our particular slants on how it might be mended. My feeling is that either would work, omission or change of emphasis.

[Grantt]

As it's been noticed by many, I can assume that something's isn't right with it...

Lots of excellently made points, guys. Some great re-wordings thrown in too. I did end up rushing the end as my word limit was encroaching, so Colette using him as a scapegoat does come across as flimsy, especially considering Jacob's dishevelled appearance.

I'm not going to edit anymore (I think you have to leave your final version) but I shall most definitely consider these points for my submission for round 1.

I wrote this in about an hour after I finished my battle report, so I think most of my creative juices went into that!

Edited June 6, 2012 by Grantt

[UberGruber]

I think you have to leave your final version

I think Edonil may have that under consideration, it may not be set in stone as a rule (and you could always edit it to have WIP in the title, which certainly does allow you to edit until the deadline, and then nobody would ever know, it'd be like the perfect crime).

Not that I'm saying you should edit it, just that I think the possibility is still open.

I'm always a little chary of suggesting rewordings as everyone has their own style and sometimes that can be undermined by different phrasing. I, for instance, like to use long, rolling sentences laden with adjectives and adverbs and a healthy dose of underused or obscure words (squamous being one of my favourites, along with gelid and slantendicular), because the writers I like best (O'Brian, MacDonald Fraser, Tolkien, Anderson, Chandler) were never afraid to run on longer than might be considered strictly fashionable in certain circles, nor to use the word best suited and reader ignorance be damned. So it's sometimes hard to finger what is definitely 'off' and what is maybe just personal preference when it comes to punctuation or phrasing . . . but that said, I do think it worth mentioning where something seems odd because the author than then make up their own mind.

Edited June 6, 2012 by UberGruber