Iron Quill - Preliminary Round: I Don't Like Mondays.....

[Absolution Black]

Ok, well....heres my attempt at this Iron Quill Lark. I won't say i'm happy with it, but I am happy enough to put it up for the bones to be picked over. I would love criticism etc, though it is highly unlikely I will actually make any changes before judging as time is short!

For those of you aware of my earlier stuff, it contains a character from the Absolution Black canon....one of my favourites to write.

It is written in a pretty non descriptive pulpy style, or at least that was what i was trying to put across. The theme and mystery item were included literally, and this was the hardest part!

I hope it a tleast seems an enjoyable read and that it works without feeling too rushed.

3000 words is a very hard limit for me to keep to....

---------- Post added at 12:14 PM ---------- Previous post was at 12:12 PM ----------

I Don't Like Mondays......



Knoffler rubbed his bleary eyes and fumbled with the notepad in his pocket. Pulling the battered object out it was clear that it had seen better days, just like Knoffler himself. Why oh why had he let Henderson convince him into attending that poker game last night? Apart from the fact he was now several dollars poorer, the copious amounts of illegal gin consumed had left him with the mother of all hangovers. And to make matters even worse, this morning was the morning he had been presented with an important case.

A body had been found in the street. Nothing unusual about that in Malifaux, but this was different. The body belonged to one Honourable Justice Claremont, a well-respected Judge, and the powers that be were demanding a quick resolution to the case. But even that wasn’t the strangest thing. No, what made this case even more perplexing was the discovery of a single chess piece inserted in the nasal cavity: a Bishop for what it was worth.

Knoffler turned the bloodied piece over and over in his hands, trying to get his alcohol fuddled brain to at least toss up some plausible theories. As he was about to put the evidence in a bag he spotted the tiny engraving on the base, so small he had almost missed it. Squinting and holding the piece closer to his eye, he could make out one single word: Gregorvic. He pondered the meaning of it all, why a bishop? Why that particular name, and what was its significance?

He placed the piece into a bag and scribbled a few relevant details down in his notepad before turning to make his way back to the Guild offices. He was hoping he could grab a few minutes sleep back at his desk before he started the case, though the way the day had turned out so far he wasn’t hopeful. He stumbled and bounced off a passing pedestrian, muttering his apologies, and that was when he saw it. Across the street from where he stood was obviously the local place of worship, The Church of our Blessed Mother. The building had seen better days yet was sturdy compared to some of the surrounding buildings. And on the plaque outside was the name Gregorvic, the resident priest.

Rubbing his temples to relieve the pressure he made his way over to the large wooden door and pushed it open. It was quiet inside yet he could hear the murmur of voices coming from deeper within. Slowly he made his way towards the altar where the priest stood chatting to another man who Knoffler, much to his surprise, actually recognised as one of the many merchants plying their trades in this part of the city. They looked to see him approaching and their conversation stopped, both men turning to greet the approaching officer, false smiles plastered across their faces.

“Ah Captain “ exclaimed the priest, offering his hands wide in a welcoming gesture, “to what do we owe this pleasure?”

Knoffler really fought the urge to give a sarcastic reply and smiled.

“I’m afraid its not a social visit. I believe I need to speak with you….you are Gregorvic I assume?”

“Reverend Gregorvic, yes”. The older man now seemed more cold.

The other man, the merchant, made some excuses and left. Knoffler could see no reason not to let him leave, at the moment the only link he had was the priest, but he was compus mentus enough to make a mental note. After they had watched the merchant close the heavy door behind him, Knoffler turned his attention back to the waiting priest.

“I’m afraid that I am here investigating a murder. And bizarrely, it seems your name was somehow involved”

“A murder? How terrible…anyone I might know?”

“A Judge. Claremont. I’m perplexed as to why your name would be connected to him…any ideas, did you know him?”

The priest fiddled with his robe hems nervously as he dropped his gaze away from Knoffler.

“Claremont. I know of him. But why anyone would connect him to me, I have no idea. I am a man of the cloth, I have no dealings with Judges, the only Judge I have is the lord above”

Knoffler smiled. He could see the name had clearly rattled the priest, but knowing he had no other evidence to go with at the present time, he made a few perfunctory notes and closed the pad.

“Ok Reverend. That’s all for now. If something comes to you, I’d be grateful if you would get in touch”.

“Yes, certainly officer. I will ”

The priest seemed to visibly sag with relief that Knoffler was leaving. Yes, he definitely knows more than he’s letting on thought Knoffler as he closed the door behind him, shielded his tired eyes from the glare of the morning sun, and trudged forlornly back to the Guild offices.

************************************************** ******************************

Body number two was found that afternoon. Thankfully, Knoffler was starting to feel better. No longer did his head swirl at the most inopportune moments, or his throat feel like the bottom of a canary’s cage. He peered over at the bloodied corpse and instantly recognised the victim as the merchant he had seen earlier with Gregorvic. Surely not a coincidence? He crouched down and looked closely at the body, noticing the victim’s hand was firmly shut. Reaching down, he prised open the dead man’s fingers and found another chess piece: A Castle this time.

Turning it over Knoffler wasn’t surprised to see one word had been engraved on the underside: Rouge. Knoffler smiled. He knew what this clue meant, it was a reference to the large Merchants guild offices over in the good end of town. Chateau rouge, they called it; the red castle. Placing the piece with the previous one, he commandeered the nearest Guild wagon to take him to his destination. The ride over was uncomfortable, the rocking of the coach making him feel nauseous. This was definitely the last time he let Henderson convince him of anything. He took the opportunity to have a cigarette, feeling himself relax as he closed his eyes and filled himself with nicotine.

He thought about the case, wondering how this was all connected. Obviously they were linked by the chess pieces, and the merchant had certainly known Gregorvic. The Priest’s reaction had told Knoffler that he had obviously heard of, if not, knew the Judge. So they were all swirled in there together somehow: three well-respected members of the community so why target them? And was this killer leaving these clues to help him, as it certainly seemed that way? The coach rattled to a halt, and once he had made certain his brain hadn’t rolled out of his skull, Knoffler stepped down and onto the cobbles.

************************************************** *********************************

“I’m afraid you can’t speak to anyone at the moment sir, they are in an important trade meeting with representatives of The Empire”.

Knoffler had already taken an instant dislike to the fop behind the large reception desk. He knew he was most likely being stalled, that somehow word had got out he was on his way. These muppets were obviously trying to hide something but what he couldn’t figure out just yet. He needed to look around and came up with an idea. He knew it was the corniest idea in the world and should never work, but at this point it was all his tired brain could come up with.

“I see. Fair enough. Is there any chance that I could use your bathroom before I leave?”

Without looking up, the receptionist muttered directions in that monotonous, patronising voice. Knoffler hoped that the man was guilty of something, as he would take great pleasure in arresting the sod.

He made his way down the ostentatious corridor tutting at the sheer over indulgence of it all. These merchants were obviously making a pretty penny in whatever trade they did. Why couldn’t they give some of that money to the city, to help rebuild it or pay for more officers? Crime levels were threatening to swamp what little law enforcement they already had, and those damn Arcanists didn’t help matters with their meddling.

He had a good look around the place, sticking his head through doorways when he could, but he could find nothing untoward, or even remotely worthy of further investigation. He had about given up hope when he turned and saw a small table that hadn’t appeared to be there before. And on the table was a chess set, with coincidentally two pieces missing. But what was more surprising was the fact that, next to the table, the wall appeared to be open a fraction. He rubbed his eyes and looked closer. In fact it looked like a secret door had been moulded into the fabric of the surrounding wall, a hidden passage perhaps?

He pulled it further open and peered through it, took a quick glance around, and then disappeared into the gloom. Sure enough a thin corridor ran parallel to the wall, and then sloped steadily downwards. He followed it as quietly as he could, his suspicions already heightened due to the fact this door had conveniently somehow opened. It could easily be a trap, he thought, though this was possibly too late to make a difference. He reached a heavy door at the end of the corridor and listened carefully, pressing an ear against the cold wood.

He could hear voices. There was a man he couldn’t recognise and he was arguing with a voice that Knoffler certainly could remember: the priest Gregorvic. What the hell was he doing down here, skulking around in hidden passages? He strained harder against the door desperate to make out the content of their discussion. He could pick out a few words: Girls….tonight…..money….killed if necessary.

He heard a girl’s voice cry out in fear, begging to be let go. He felt his stomach lurch. He knew now what this was all about, having read a file that had been circulated a few days before. There had been an ongoing investigation into the trafficking of young girls from Earthside to be used for prostitution and god knows what over here. It had centred on the Merchants guild but evidence had been hard to come by, and the investigation had now stalled. He realised he had stumbled upon the evidence they needed.

He debated rushing the room right there and then, but he had no idea how many men were in there and whether or not they were armed. Against his gut reaction, he turned and slowly made his way back up the gloomy corridor knowing he would have to act fast and return with reinforcements. Poking his head throught he opening he checked to ensure he was alone in the hallway before slipping out, pushing the panel shut behind him.

He made a quick mental note as to where the secret entrance was located before strolling back through the building and into the reception. He forced a smile at the man behind the desk, and flipped his hat.

“Such a pleasant bathroom, a truly wonderful piece of workmanship!”

Before the receptionist could reply, he had pushed through the door and onto the street beyond. He instructed his driver to make haste to the nearest Guild house, he wanted this business finished once and for all. A figure dressed head to toe in black watched him depart, a smile creeping across his lips.

************************************************** **************

Fighting the urge to be sick from the swaying motion of the coach, Knoffler looked around him. He was in a patrol wagon filled with guardsmen clutching their weapons tightly. He knew there were three similar wagons behind them, en route to Chateau Rouge. He had taken a huge risk in requesting such manpower because if he would have some serious explaining to do, should it all go pear-shaped. He hoped to whatever gods were listening that it wouldn’t before, asking for forgiveness for the sin he was about to commit, lighting a cigarette.

The coach lurched to a halt, the sudden movement reminding Knoffler of his drinking exploits the night before. He could see Henderson smiling back across at him, and he half -heartedly smiled back. How did the bastard look so fresh? He had little time to ponder over it however as they spilled out into the street, each wagon emptying its contingent of guardsmen all following his lead. He ran up the steps, instantly regretting it before steadying himself and pushing the entrance door open. The receptionist looked up startled as the Guardsmen poured into the lobby.

“Ok, this is a raid by order of the Guild. Everyone is to remain where they are until we say so. I will take great delight in shooting any bastard who disagrees with this motion”.

He smiled at the receptionist, watching the colour drain from the man’s face. Then he took five men with him as the others searched the rooms ensuring no-one left, and led them down the corridor towards the secret panel. He took a brief glance at his surroundings and pushed against the wall. Thankfully he had remembered correctly and the door opened silently. Motioning for the guardsmen to follow him they moved swiftly down the corridor and kicked open the door at the far end..

The priest Gregorvic was framed in the flickering torchlight, his hands inappropriately placed on a young girls chest. He instantly raised his hands and began to plead his innocence, claiming that he had discovered them here, that he was consoling them. Knoffler walked over and with one hard punch, felled the shocked man. The guardsmen spilled into the small room, making it secure before they began to untie the girls. Knoffler heard a loud groan and turned to see the priest was stirring on the floor. Knoffler squatted down alongside the prone clergyman.

“You are one sick bastard Gregorvic, You know very well what is going on here so don’t plead the innocent one. I have a few friends in the inquisition department that would love to have a talk with you”.

He picked the priest up and cuffed his hands behind his back, leading him up the corridor after the others. In the main lobby merchants, judges and various hob nobs in the levels of aristocracy all sat huddled in a group surrounded by his guardsmen. The girls were led outside and put into the wagons to be transported back to the Guild offices. He hoped they would be reunited with their families wherever they were, but knew that more than likely they would be turfed out to fend for themselves. Still, he hoped that would be better than a life of slavery or worse.

A loud booming voice echoed across the lobby, causing Knoffler to wince as the headache he had hoped had gone, sauntered jauntily back into his skull. It was his commanding officer, strolling across the floor towards him, a beaming smile making him look like a raving loon, but Knoffler wasn’t about to say that.

“Excellent work Knoffler”, He slapped the captain on the shoulder. “There will be a commendation for this, I’m sure. We’ve been after these scum for months but haven’t had a single lead…how did you do it? No, don’t tell me, save it for later!”

He watched the other man continue his tour of the lobby, congratulating what seemed like anyone who moved. He relinquished the priest to a guardsman and stepped outside, the late night and today’s events catching up with him. He leant against the side of the building and lit a cigarette.

“That’s a filthy habit you know” The voice came from to the side, causing him to jump out of his skin. Next to him stood a man in black, his face partially covered by a hood, yet Knoffler recognised him instantly.

“You. I might have known”.

“Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Friend? Friends don’t send dead people as presents. At least not from where I come from”.

The other man laughed.

“They were guilty men. I simply provided the clues for you to follow. I see you’ll be getting a commendation for this. Rightfully deserved too”.

Knoffler took a deep drag and then exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the afternoon air.

“Huh. Just a fancy piece of paper. So, was this just another job for you then?”

He turned, but the man in black had disappeared as swiftly and as silently as he had arrived. Knoffler rolled his eyes then smiled. That was about right he thought: comes and goes as he pleases.
He was stirred from his thoughts by the rather too enthusiastic voice of Henderson, the fellow captain wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him back towards the wagons.

“So Knoffler….How about you try and win some of that money back tonight then?”.


Le Fin....

[edonil]

Great work as usual. I enjoyed it, although I'll admit to having an inkling of where you were going with the chess pieces before you mentioned it. The only consistent thing I saw that threw me was the difference between Knoeffler's inner and outer dialogue. Inside his head, you've got an informal dialogue. When he talks, though, it's almost perfect and extremely formal. It just seems to break out of his character.

I'm on the iPod currently, so I'll try to point out the few grammar issues I saw later.

And, honestly, I did like how you used the theme. Yes, it was straightforward, but Tropes are Tools for a reason.

One story down, lol...

[UberGruber]

I enjoyed this quite a lot though the style seemed rather more suited to a early-mid C20 setting than a pseudo-C19 one, but that's, I think, more because of the strong link between this style of detective stories and the 1920s-50s; it's not really a problem, just something that struck me. I thought the working in of the item and theme was done just fine, even. I'd have liked just a little more on the other characters. Knoffler is well enough drawn, the others rather less so, I thought and I'd have liked a little Chandler-esque summary of each of them worked into the story.

You mentioned though that you found the words limiting and I think you could trim quite substantially without losing any of the sense or style. Of course where trimming becomes undermining (of style or sense) is for the author to decide but as a quick example I think your first three paragraphs could easily become something like:

Knoffler rubbed his bleary eyes and fumbled a notepad from his pocket. It had seen better days, just like Knoffler himself. Why oh why had he let Henderson convince him to play poker last night? He was now several dollars poorer and copious amounts of illegal gin had left him with the mother of all hangovers. To make matters even worse, this morning he had been presented with an important case.

A body had been found in the street. Nothing unusual about that in Malifaux, but this was different. The body belonged to one Honourable Justice Claremont, a well-respected Judge, and the powers that be were demanding a quick resolution to the case. What made this case perplexing was the single chess piece that had been inserted in the nasal cavity: a Bishop, if that meant anything.

Knoffler turned the bloodied piece over and over in his hands, trying to get his alcohol fuddled brain to at least throw up some plausible theories. As he was about to put the evidence in a bag he spotted the tiny engraving on the base, so small he had almost missed it. Squinting and holding the piece closer to his eye, he could make out one single word: Gregorvic.


206 words to your 257. I made a minor alteration to one phrase that was just because I thought 'throw up' might associate better with a hangover-state than 'pull up'. But the joke may be too feeble.

I also thought this:

his hands inappropriately placed on a young girls chest

a wee bit coy and rather anachronistic for Knoffler's thoughts (as it were, being his point of view, at least as much as third person is ever from a single point of view), 'inappropriate' in this particular almost euphimistic sense being I think quite a modern usage.

But overall the story works well really. you could maybe consider Knoffler's career being on the line due to his alcoholism and gambling so that him breaking this case would be important - and so at the end when he resumes his drinking and pokerplaying it'd be sort of ironic, as if he was spurning the 'last chance' gifted him by the mysterious clue-giver.

[Absolution Black]

I enjoyed this quite a lot though the style seemed rather more suited to a early-mid C20 setting than a pseudo-C19 one, but that's, I think, more because of the strong link between this style of detective stories and the 1920s-50s; it's not really a problem, just something that struck me. I thought the working in of the item and theme was done just fine, even. I'd have liked just a little more on the other characters. Knoffler is well enough drawn, the others rather less so, I thought and I'd have liked a little Chandler-esque summary of each of them worked into the story.

You mentioned though that you found the words limiting and I think you could trim quite substantially without losing any of the sense or style. Of course where trimming becomes undermining (of style or sense) is for the author to decide but as a quick example I think your first three paragraphs could easily become something like:

Knoffler rubbed his bleary eyes and fumbled a notepad from his pocket. It had seen better days, just like Knoffler himself. Why oh why had he let Henderson convince him to play poker last night? He was now several dollars poorer and copious amounts of illegal gin had left him with the mother of all hangovers. To make matters even worse, this morning he had been presented with an important case.

A body had been found in the street. Nothing unusual about that in Malifaux, but this was different. The body belonged to one Honourable Justice Claremont, a well-respected Judge, and the powers that be were demanding a quick resolution to the case. What made this case perplexing was the single chess piece that had been inserted in the nasal cavity: a Bishop, if that meant anything.

Knoffler turned the bloodied piece over and over in his hands, trying to get his alcohol fuddled brain to at least throw up some plausible theories. As he was about to put the evidence in a bag he spotted the tiny engraving on the base, so small he had almost missed it. Squinting and holding the piece closer to his eye, he could make out one single word: Gregorvic.


206 words to your 257. I made a minor alteration to one phrase that was just because I thought 'throw up' might associate better with a hangover-state than 'pull up'. But the joke may be too feeble.

I also thought this:



a wee bit coy and rather anachronistic for Knoffler's thoughts (as it were, being his point of view, at least as much as third person is ever from a single point of view), 'inappropriate' in this particular almost euphimistic sense being I think quite a modern usage.

But overall the story works well really. you could maybe consider Knoffler's career being on the line due to his alcoholism and gambling so that him breaking this case would be important - and so at the end when he resumes his drinking and pokerplaying it'd be sort of ironic, as if he was spurning the 'last chance' gifted him by the mysterious clue-giver.

thanks for those comments...i agree that the style of the story is more akin to 1950's pulp fiction, but that is just how i envisage this guy... its hard to see how he'd be back in the late 19th century. Its interesting you mention about his career and whether his drinking, gambling etc will affect it..... in my larger pieces of fiction i have only just started to touch on that subject more, though hopefully you would also see that his character is more fleshed out in those books....

His mysterious friend is actually not a mystery in those longer stories, so in a way this is a prequel to the time period of those tales, though it is intended to stand alone too..

Yeah i think i may remove the bit about the pervy priest...as it isnt really necessary.

And i can see what you have done with the opening paragraphs, and agree to a certain extent...but i think i wont have time to revisit it before deadline but thats fine..unless i can grab an hour or two somewhere!

And to be honest, I never touched on the other characters because in the grand scheme of things they are just bit parts to my main protaganists in the larger stories..in fact they may not even be mentioned! But that is where my error has come, is that assuming people have read my other stuff..edonil has for example so knows Knoffler well.

But all points taken on board, thanks.. I appreciate you taking the time to read it and comment.

---------- Post added at 03:19 PM ---------- Previous post was at 03:15 PM ----------

Great work as usual. I enjoyed it, although I'll admit to having an inkling of where you were going with the chess pieces before you mentioned it. The only consistent thing I saw that threw me was the difference between Knoeffler's inner and outer dialogue. Inside his head, you've got an informal dialogue. When he talks, though, it's almost perfect and extremely formal. It just seems to break out of his character.

I'm on the iPod currently, so I'll try to point out the few grammar issues I saw later.

And, honestly, I did like how you used the theme. Yes, it was straightforward, but Tropes are Tools for a reason.

One story down, lol...

Thanks. Yeah the story is quite predictable, but i wanted to keep it simple plainly for the fact you will know my stories run away from me with multi plotlines etc.... 3000 words was a challenge. Glad i did reasonably ok lol.

The dialogue in Knofflers head and actual dialogue is hard for me to do..I want him to appear downtrodden grumpy, but still a loveable rogue, yet he still is a Guild Captain and wanted to show him doing his best to be formal...Around Black and the other characters i tend to let it slip as they know the real him... do you understand what i'm trying to put across, as i am now rambling lol..

Grammar is not my strongpoint..so any pointers are very welcome! i should really get my wife to proofread them as she is an english graduate!

Thanks Edonil..

[UberGruber]

I didn't mind the style, it's just i tend to associate it strongly with a specific era so it seemed (to me) to get in the way a bit as I was very conscious of it. Not really a big deal.

I just thought the bit about the priest was worded a little too coyly and anachronistically (be it for pseudo-C19 story or the mid C20 style). It's actually, I thought, a nice touch (pun there, if you like).

As regards the word-count, it is a bit 'wordy' for my taste, in that there's what I'd see as rather too much redundancy present, and that slows things down a little. But again, that's not a big deal really.

[ThePandaDirector]

I literally couldn't read this and think of Malifaux at the same time, I was too busy picturing Chicago or Pittsburgh.

Things that stuck out were dollars, nicotine and even putting evidence in a bag, as being a little too familiar in a modern day context.

While overall well written, I'm torn on such simplistic stories. It's not the lack of existential themes or whatever, but just the predictability of the plot and familiarity of the dialogue and tropes. Just personal opinion here, I see "familiar stories" a lot and I always try to push more unconventional drama.

I will say I was interested in the man in black, as I love the whole "guardian demon" trope that is evident in works such as the Eisenhorn Trilogy.

Much obliged =]

[UberGruber]

the predictability of the plot and familiarity of the dialogue and tropes

There is, however, the fact that such familiarity does have an appeal for very many readers (hence the popularity of such things as Rober Ludlum's The Parallax View, The Aquitaine Progression, The Plot Similarity, etc - I made one of those up, can you guess which . . .).

And I think that characterisation can lift such stories (in fact I think characters are ultimately what make stories to a greater degree than anything else).

[ThePandaDirector]

In the world of whisky, there are those who drink, those who pour and those who brew.

And then there are those who mix, but they are all to often tae aff their heed tu makin' muchly senseish... ;)

[UberGruber]

Right enough.

[Absolution Black]

Again, some good comments that really do help me to see things from other perspectives..I can totally get the setting problem, I think it is largely down to the fact a lot of 'detective' stories are set in that era and those locations...

I guess its a case of trying to find that style and twisting it to fit a late nineteenth century locale, though a twisted version of our own lol.

And Panda, the man in black isn't so much a guardian as possibly a hindrance as well lol...

Thanks again, may try and make subtle changes today..

As for other ways of describing things like nicotine, and evidence bags..hmmm..well i guess the evidence could just be stuffed in his pockets as there would be no forensics around. And would Guild Scrip be more likely a currency...I was under the understanding this was worth jack all in Malifaux? Dollars seemed right for 19th century US?

Wordy is always a problem of mine..comes from reading Robert Jordan lol. I do try and limit the wordy bits but it doesn't always work.

And as for characters driving stories, I wholeheartedly agree....in fact i will admit my story falls flat because i haven't involved some of my more familiar characters...which helps me write stories and hopefully entertains both casual and regular readers alike.