Friday, August 7th, 2014

Jeremiah enters the front door of The Hotel and is immediately annoyed that there is absolutely nobody at the front desk. He briefly considers manning the post himself, but he is already drowsy and without rest and meditation, he will surely put both himself and Erichthro at risk when they storm the sanctuary of their enemy to retrieve the immortal soul of former Tremere neonate Garwood Marshall.

 

He hears the familiar banging coming from Russell Hampton's workshop. Curious as to the status of his weapon, he walks through the back hallway and enters. Russell turns at the noise of his footsteps, and grins. "What're you doing awake? Thought you needed to sleep in the daytime."

 

"I do, and will retire to my suite momentarily. I just wanted to see how the-"

 

Russell grins brightly. "She's done." He lifts up the flail. "Yep. And she's a beauty, too."

 

Jeremiah is stunned. He had expected the flail to be a labor of at least three weeks, possibly three months. Could this mortal have really built it in three days?

 

Russell holds it out to him, and he takes it by the handle. The weight of it catches Jeremiah off guard momentarily, but not because of how heavy it is. It is because of how light it is. "What material did you-"

 

"It's carbon-based steel with a titanium lining. The weight is equally distributed between the two spiked heads and the handle for balance. It's long enough to keep someone out of close range if you want, but if they do manage to close, its intentionally weighted so you can swing it sideways and catch them flat-footed. Most flails can't do that, the old medieval ones would throw you right off your own feet if you tried it. But this one is a little special. Came up with that design concept while I was reading up on the weapon."

 

"And you were able to implement it in only three days?" Jeremiah's voice is one of hushed awe. When he'd first arrived a week ago he'd held complete contempt for Mr. Confetti's choice of staff, and when this man arrived he'd also thought nothing of him.

 

Now it turns out that Jeeps is a genius virtuoso, and so too, apparently is this man. The Bellboy Girl has her own unique feature of extraordinary Potence for a ghoul. Jeremiah is now beginning to see how Mr. Confetti operates. He creates the illusion of incompetence. Indeed, the man himself seems like something of a fool. Until you review his history. Then you learn that you are, in fact, the fool.

 

Jeremiah turned himself away from the master weaponsmith and extended his arm to test the weapon against medium-ranged opponents. One swing and he was convinced he'd never held a flail near half as easy to use. And with a carbon-steel and titanium base, anything he hit with it would surely break before the weapon. Incredible.

 

He then tried the side attack. Never having performed it before, it was a clumsy, awkward attempt, which he frowned at.

 

"Damn, I wonder if-"

 

Jeremiah cut the craftsman off. "The flaw is not in your technique, it is in mine. I will practice. That is an unusual maneuver to-" Jeremiah cuts himself off as he sees, for the first time, the long Catholic Cross with Jesus engraved up the spine of the handle.

 

"That is..." he struggled to find the right word, then settled for "beautiful."

 

"Yeah, figured you wanted the big guy on your side while you're out there smiting your enemies. Anyway, if you can do me a favor and tell Mortimer that he's up next. I owe him a weapon too and he hasn't told me what he wants."

 

"I will inform him when next I see him. This is magnificent. I almost feel like I can't accept it. At least, not without payment of some-"

 

"Don't sweat it. Mr. Confetti's got me on a long term contract and believe me, I've never come close to making money like this. After we're through here, I'll have more than enough to retire on. Then I can just make stuff for myself and my friends."

 

"I will try to stay friends with you, then." Jeremiah can't take his eyes off the flail, he tries to think of something else to say, but words fail him.

 

"Go on, take it. Get out of here. I've been sleeping during the day too to match my schedule with you and the others. But I was so close to finishing I decided to get up early to do it. Now we can both catch some damn shut-eye. Oh wait, I almost forgot!"

 

Jeremiah steps aside as Russell storms past him, to a large shelf full of just about any kind of tool and material you can name. He pulls a small harness off the shelf. "I made this yesterday for you also. Can't just walk around in public with a damn flail. Not exactly great for that masquerade thing you vampires are always going off about."

 

Jeremiah slides the harness onto his back. It is built to look like a modern day backpack, but the flail fits in perfectly. There is a zipper on top to seal it, but when left open the weapon is easy to draw out, and Russell teaches Jeremiah how to do it perfectly in only a few minutes. "Excellent. Most excellent." Jeremiah holsters the flail inside, satisfied.

 

"One thing Mr. Hampton. We call ourselves Kindred."

 

"Well, I ain't one of you, am I? To me, you're a damn vampire."

 

Jeremiah's lips purse in amusement. "I see. Well, good day. Get some rest, you've certainly earned it."

 

They shake hands and Jeremiah heads out as Russell starts the clean-up and close-down of his workshop.