Deadlands Noir Extinct in the Big Easy

I think I need something better than brass


So, my tailor (what, you thought I bought suits this size off the rack?) knows a jeweler who specializes in gentleman’s accessories; he did right by me with my watch, so I went to him with this idea I had of insetting silver crosses in my brass knuckles. It turns out a friend of his who’s not so particular made something similar for a fellow out West a while back.


I think my guy was offended at the suggestion he would ever work in brass in the first place, honestly, but after some talking back and forth, we settled on something that didn’t insult him and I might be able to afford. We agreed that solid silver would be the best for just the punching—it’s heavier than brass—but that I’d be too old and feeble to lift ’em by the time I could scrape up the dough to pay for ’em.

We also thought I might want to expand the effectiveness a bit, considering I intend to use ‘em to beat on things that go bump in the night (yeah, he’s in the know. Or maybe he’s just superstitious. Either way, about half of the things in his shop are just prettier versions of the little wards and stuff you’d see in an old village woman’s house to keep out troll, and have little tags on them saying “this item not for sale”). So he’s having the body of ‘em made out of black iron, with the crosses embossed really high on each knuckle. He’ll drill a cavity into the palm and fill it with lead to compensate for the fact that iron is lighter than brass (who knew?), then he’ll electroplate the whole things in silver to about the thickness of an old man’s toenail. Then he’ll grind just the crosses down to the bare iron.

We’re inscribing “PS:23” on the belly of each, where my fingers will rest, and on the back, where they’ll rest in my palm, the left will say “k├Ąpp” and the right will say “stav”. Between the silver, the iron, and Father Ryan’s blessing, I figure they’ll help me out if I run into any more boojums like we dealt with up by the lake. I just gotta remember not to use ’em on the run of the mill bastards at the Lily. Those assholes can settle for good old brass.

Anyway, he’s agreed to go ahead and make them now, and hold on to them until I can afford to buy them, or a year, whichever comes first. Says he figures they’ll make a nice display item in the shop; remind folks he does good custom work; get their imaginations going. Plus he says he likes the idea of taking the fight to the boogeyman. You should have seen the grin on his face when he asked if I had any friends who might want some “special” items, too.



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