Iron Quill (Falling): The Descent

[Hateful Darkblack]

The nice thing about plummeting from an airship a mile above the badlands is that there's plenty of time to consider before you hit bottom. The trouble is, there's also plenty of time for regrets.

Well, the real trouble is that you'll soon hit bottom and turn into vulture food, but the regrets come a close second.

The fight still raged above, and my fellow guards continued to take snap-shots at the swooping, shrieking Nephilim who threatened the ship. My own pistol was falling nearby, but faster than me, and out of reach now, or I might have tried to take some shots back upward.

Instead, I had time to think. We were told that our ship was mostly going out for observations, but would be dropping off some food supplies to a few Guild colonies along the way. We all knew better than to believe it, of course, but you don't ask questions when you're making scrip. Now that I could safely say I was retired, maybe it was time to ask questions.

What was that giant brass gyroscope in the middle of the dirigible? Was our "surveyor" really some Arcanist astronomer like we'd suspected? Why did he have all those queer lenses? What was in all those bags labelled "Food" that were warm to the touch but smelled like ice? Was Thomas just drunk, or did he really see a man made of ice in the machinery? Were we really working for the Guild, or were we just dupes for the Arcanists?

Why did the Nephilim brave our Gatling cannons to raid the ship, in what must have looked like a suicide carge?

I'm distracted from my questions by the Badlands below. I can still see the Big City off in the distance, and the wide-winged vultures watching the land, and tiny train tracks below. The vast, clear air and the beautiful badlands below made me smile. Welcome to the greatest show in Malifaux! But the tickets don't come cheap.

I chuckle to myself as I take comfort in one thing: at least I'll never get made into a zombie. The work I do, that's always what I feared most. I'd accepted I'd die soon enough; I went through the Breach knowing I wouldn't live long, but hoping that maybe I could send money home in the meantime, and that it wouldn't be Resurrectionists who done me in. That when I died, that would be the end of it. So, even more good news.

If you ignored my imminent death, things were looking pretty good.

Meanwhile, the fighting up there has gone South fast. Was the surveyor in league with the demons? He could have stood ground and helped us fight them, but instead he retreated into the machinery. Did he abandon us? Was he following some special instructions? Even without him, we thought we were going to fight the things off - we had elevation advantage, and guns, and numbers. Things were going pretty well until The Fear hit us.

And that's the regrets come back.

I'd just stood there, pistol in hand, weeping like a child as the beasts came upward. Couldn't bring myself even to pull the trigger. Half of us were just the same, all gaping like helpless victims, and soon enough the Nephilim were on the platform and The Fear was getting worse.

I tried taking a few shots, but my hand was shaking so badly I just added a few holes to the air chambers above. When one of the Nephilim landed in front of me, all wings and claws and horns and hate, I did the only thing I could think of doing: I ran away, right off the platform.

At least I'd die a man.

Up above, I can see the beasts feasting on my fallen allies. There aren't many of us left. Is that the astronomer fighting back against them? Is that the Ice-Man? It doesn't matter now, I guess, but the least I can do is cheer for the good guys on my way down. It's tough to tell who that is, though.

Another sweep of wings and splash of red, and the fight's over. And now the better part of the Nephilim are leaving again, carrying that brass gyroscope between them.

Surveying and supply mission, my foot. We were set up.

Oh no, don't look down. Don't see me. Don't notice me.

No, no! I'm done for already! No sense in pointing me out to the others, you weird old beast! Why've you got to ruin my last few moments?

Take your contraption and go, you stupid lumps! No, don't fly down here! Stay up with the others!

Leave me be!

---------- Post added at 04:57 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:52 PM ----------

(Elements: The Descent Theme, Line "Welcome to the Greatest Show in Malifaux". Also included an Ice-Man in passing, just for kicks.)

[edonil]

That was really a lot of fun, great work for your first Quill entry! Very different from any direction I would have taken the elements you chose, but that just made it so much better.

I really loved the light tone you took to the whole piece. You took a tragedy and played it like a comedy, and that was brilliantly done. You had a whole bunch of points where I just started chuckling at it, and a couple turns of phrase, like the one about retiring, that I loved.

Couple things to consider for next time- at a few places, you changed from past tense to present tense in a weird way. Not a big thing, but it snapped me out of the story and got my attention.

The other thing is that you had a real grabber of a start, and it kinda lost some momentum in the next few lines. Not sure really what to change with that, but keep an eye for that kind of a thing. At 1500 words, you don't have a lot of room to play with, and it can be a real killer to lose momentum.

Great job, and I hope to see more from you in the future!

[Hateful Darkblack]

Thanks edonil! That's some excellent advice. I'll work on those things!

[Hateful Darkblack]

(revised version for my own sake!)

The nice thing about plummeting from an airship a mile above the badlands is that there's plenty of time to think before you hit bottom. The only trouble (besides part about becoming vulture food once you land) is there's also plenty of time for regrets.

The fight still raged above, and my fellow guards continued to take snap-shots at the swooping, shrieking Nephilim who threatened the ship. My own pistol was falling nearby, but faster than me and out of reach so I couldn't take any shots back upward.

Instead I had time to think about what had happened. We'd been told that our ship was mostly making the rounds for observations, but that we'd be dropping off some food supplies to a few mining colonies along the way. We all knew better than to believe it, but we also knew better than to ask questions when making scrip.

Now that I was safely retired, maybe it was time to start asking those questions.

What was that giant brass gyroscope in the middle of the cargo deck? Was our "surveyor" really some kind of Arcanist astronomer like we'd all suspected? Why did he have all those queer lenses? What was in all those bags labeled "Food" that were warm to the touch but smelled like ice? Was Thomas just drunk, or did he really see a man made of ice skulking through the machinery?

Why had the Nephilim braved our Gatling cannons to raid the ship? Were they on a suicide charge?

Then I got distracted from all my questions by the Badlands below. I could still see the Big City off in the distance, and the wide-winged vultures watching the land, and even the tiny train tracks below. The vast, clear air and the beautiful badlands made me smile. Welcome to the greatest show in Malifaux! But the tickets don't come cheap.

I chuckled a little at my victory. When I went through the Breach, I knew it'd kill me in good short time, and I'd just hoped to make enough money to send home in the meantime, and hoped that when I died, it'd be the end of it. I'd heard the stories of all those Resurrectionists that would do you in and then make you into some terrible zombie.

I didn't hope to live long; I just hoped that when I died, that would be the end of it. Score one for me.

If you ignored my imminent death, things were looking pretty good.

Meanwhile, though, the fighting up in the ship had gone South, and more questions hit me as hard as the air slamming into my face.

Was the surveyor in league with those demons? Why did he retreat back into the machinery instead of standing ground with us? Did he abandon us? Was he following some special instructions? How could we have lost with all the advantages of elevation, and guns, and numbers? Why did we seize up with That Big Fear when the demons came up close, instead of just shooting them like we'd been trained?

Why'd I have to just stand there with my pistol in hand, weeping like a child when the beasts surged up? Why couldn't I just pull the trigger? Why'd we all have to stand there gaping like helpless civilians while the Nephilim landed on our platform?

Why was my hand so shaky when I finally did fire? Why did that big ugly one, all wings and claws and horns and hate, have to go and pick me to land on? And why did I, instead of fighting back or something, run away straight off the platform and out into the sky outside?

Well, at least I'd die like a man.

Up above, I could see the beasts feasting on my fallen allies. There weren't many of my comrades left.

Was that the astronomer fighting back against the Nephilim finally? Was that the Ice-Man by his side? Was there anything I could do from here, except maybe to cheer on the good guys on my way down? And who were the good guys, really?

Another sweep of wings and splash of red and the fight was over. The Nephilim were leaving again, carrying that brass gyroscope between them.

Surveying and supply mission, my foot. We were set up.

And then that big ugly one with the horns and the angry eyes started looking around again, and I felt a new terror in my humble heart.

Why is that one looking down? Don't see me! Don't notice me!

No, no! I'm done for already! No sense in pointing me out to the others, you weird old beast! Why've you got to ruin my last few moments?

Take your contraption and go, you stupid lumps! No, don't fly down here! Stay up with the others!

Leave me be!