Apocalypse World - Adventshire IC

[kdtompos]

So it begins...

o ------------------------------- . ------------------------------- o

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ILb0B8QHpcA/UXRc2d3T7YI/AAAAAAAAM7M/IqKZp82cItU/s320/Alphonse_Mucha_-_Donna_Orechini.png

Zeppelin Hawke: You slowly begin your climb out of slumber, aided by the nearby sound of the "Number 4 Train" passing outside, which has become so predictable as to be comforting in the morning hours. Wheels squeak lightly, and pistons chug. Light trickles into your room as the sun begins to rise over the waking city of Brazen. Your mouth feels dry.

A long whistle pierces the morning air, as the Number 4 cries out, still charging past on its elevated track--carrying early-bird commuters toward the labour district, toward iron and coal. That's when you notice the flowery scent of perfume, which tickles your nostrils as you begin to open your eyes. It begins to dawn on you that there is a figure lightly breathing beside you, mostly wrapped beneath the covers and unhindered by the sound of morning's commute. Her amber hair lays across the pillow like a golden fountain, pooling amidst the sheets. You can't see her face, but the contour of the sheets suggests an alluring figure beneath.

Who is this, Captain Hawke? What is she doing here?

((Keep in mind, "I don't know" is always a viable answer. Also, while this intro has implications, I will never designate actions for your character, past or present. That's your realm. The implied situation doesn't have to be the true situation, so don't let me define the Captain.))

((Also, where is it that you sleep? Is this aboard the Reaver, cramped with the rest of your crew? Is it a hole-in-the-wall flat? Or do you fancy spending influence on a slightly more glamorous abode?))

What do you do now, Captain?


o ------------------------------- . ------------------------------- o

Eli Bruslin:...
Boom. Boom. Boom.

Your eyes fly open and adrenaline courses through your veins. Like a fire in your chest, it cries for your body to act even as your mind is reeling to process what's happening. Someone is pounding on your door. It's early. Far too early for any callers of proper etiquette. But then again, do you entertain proper callers often?

((Likewise, where are you right now Eli? I don't want to assume that this is your flat, as you may very well be homeless. But if it's not, where are you? And why would you be sleeping there?))

Boom. Boom.

Again, the door strains beneath the force of the knocks. What do you think is going on here, Eli?! Are you expecting anybody, and if so: why might they be so forceful? But most importantly, what do you do?


o ------------------------------- . ------------------------------- o

Markus X: You're incredibly tired. Or atleast, as close to the referenced human state as you can reasonably associate with your own experience. But unfortunately coffee does little to overcome it. Maybe you should grab some anyway--keeping up appearances, ya know? What you really need is to recharge longer.

((How do you refuel/recharge each day? I assume this takes place wherever you live, but you're welcome to show me otherwise. What's that place like?))

Your mental faculties are slow, your system doesn't respond as powerfully as you'd like, and you just bumped into a stout gentleman almost knocking him to the ground. He wheels to face you, his blonde mustache twitching as he adjusts his checkered derby and raises his cane. With a furious scowl he opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly takes account of your apparent physique in comparison with his own. So instead he diverts his frustration to the sneer with an audible huff then raps his cane on the brass rim of the sidewalk and continues on his way. A group of young women, seated beneath an umbrella on the patio of the Crème le Blanc Café, giggle at the scene as they sip their morning tea. They've clearly been watching the two of you exchange sneers, and rather conspicuous in their observation, one leans forward on her sleeved elbows in order to whisper to the one beside her who raises a biscuit to her thin lips. "I think he did it on purpose." she quips, as the other one tries to stifle her laugh with full cheeks. "Or perhaps he's sleep walking?" she continues.

Where is it you're off to in such a hurry, Markus? And why weren't you able to charge fully? Where do you go from here?


o ------------------------------- . ------------------------------- o

Meta D. Vanhanen: There's something peculiar about him. You've seen him before but haven't figured out what makes him unique. Or, at least you haven't confirmed it, perhaps you have your suspicions. Beside you, two young women giggle and make jokes at the expense of this Markus, the one who works for Captain Hawke. They sit here often, you can tell, every morning sharing their gossip and watching pedestrians pass. They comment on the fashions they see, they imitate voices they fabricate for those of particularly amusing or inspiring appearance, and they gracefully entertain the young men who have been routinely stopping by to "See what Madeline and Genevieve are up to on this splendid morning."

((How well do you know Markus X? Also, what is it that you occupy yourself with most often during the die since your trade is often employed at night. What is your dwelling like?))

Markus seems to be in a hurry, so much so that you doubt he has noticed you and you have not seen an openning to get his attention yet. Maybe you'd rather not?

"Here you are, mademoiselle." says a young man standing beside you with curly hair. He holds your drink in his right hand and bows slightly as he sets it delicately on your table. What did you order? And why are you at this Crème le Blanc today? And now that you at least have your drink, what do you intend to do next?

[Recalcitrent]

Eli

Eli starts at the abrupt interruption of his sleep, his hands immediately grabbing the knives next to his mat, instinct pushing them to act before he even knows whats going on. The unfamiliar room, coupled with the utter darkness, confuses the former Brassman momentarily, before remembering that he had to lay low last night at one of his less used safe-houses, really just an unused room in the back of a factory, after being chased out of his regular stomping grounds after a couple of gangers swung by to "object" to him winning at Kingswood's Grove against them, even though he played fair and square. At least, as fair as he ever played.

However, he is a cautious man, and had set up a few simple alarms, a set of cans at the doors on either end of the hallway outside that were set to be tipped if anyone walked in, so that meant whoever was here wasn't just a random worker or manager trying to kick the squatter out of the factory, it was someone who knew the basics, at least. So who...? Tricky? No, she said she needed at least a few more days, and she didn't even know about this place. It wasn't Khefti's men, he wouldn't try to collect so quickly after he gave his ultimatum. The knocking shows they aren't afraid of being heard, so either they think its urgent enough to disregard secrecy, or they felt secure enough that they didn't care.
Eli quickly stands up, finally centered and caught up, mentally, before heading over to the door, his left hand on the handle of a knife, the other opening the door, peering around it, using it to shield where his other hand is.

[Gull]

Markus maintained impeccable decorum in the face of the slight from the stout man. Others might take the insult to heart; to Markus, it was just one more piece of evidence. It was a series of simple choices- if the man was content to give insult, then Markus was content to take it and continue with his business. If the man required a more physical mode of compensation, then Markus would kill him and continue on with his business.

He required little rest, as an artificial. However, he did require energy and had to take time draw current into his body and recharge his batteries. This was the most efficient way to assure his continued existence. He also possessed a bioreactor in his body that would break down organic matter and provide him energy, but that was far less efficient than direct current, and was used mainly to provide the nutrients his living skin layer required. Unfortunately, he did not have time to do either, and was instead running on reserves.

He did not enjoy being in a rush, inasmuch as he did or did not enjoy anything. However, he had pressing matters to attend to.

It had been fifteen years since Echidna had died and destroyed her underground realm of Arima. Fifteen years since the Brassmen had begun to attempt to excavate the treacherous ruins.

It had been three hours since they found an artificial man, sleeping in an intact incubation tank deep in the earth.

There was a Mk. 11.

[Rysc]

Meta

Meta nods almost imperceptibly at the waiter as he sets down the cup. A single sugar-cube, and then a spoon to stir. The patrons of the cafe are not as interesting as she had hoped they would be, but then again, even morning gossip can tell one so much about a person.

She'd had better tea, but this will have to do. As she slowly sips her drink, she watches that peculiar man hurry by. Markus, supposedly a crew member on some airship. Perhaps she'll approach him someday, when he's in less of a rush. Perhaps she'll find out...

The man is out of view now. With precise, deliberate actions, Meta pulls the notice from her coat and spreads it out on the table. A sale of "RARE & UNCOMMON" books by a returning sky-captain. The legality of the means of obtaining said books by the captain is somewhat dubious, but they are books nonetheless. If her bookstore doesn't benefit, at least she will. She rises and pays the waiter, walking past the gossiping ladies as she heads out.

Wait. She frowns slightly and almost turns to them. Something about Echidna. And a mechanical man? But now they are talking about Madeline's handsome Brassman cousin. Oh well. On to Crescent Street, then.

[Captain Comos]

Hawke looked around the room, a standard Captain’s Suite at the Skywayman’s hostel. Small by any groundlubber standard and spacious by any airship standard, the suites and rooms of the hostel are available to the crews of the Airships that are paying their docking fees. The Captain Suites are two rooms with a private dressing-room and head, and a door onto the veranda that surrounds the level. That Veranda is supplied with a waitstaff that will fetch food and wine; allowing Captains to maintain separation from their crews in the common areas on the lower levels. From the veranda there is also a spectacular view... of the airship docks and loading depot for the trains, including the accursed Number 4.

Three bottles of wine on the table and a splitting headache explained the holes in his memory from the night before. He remembered meeting with the manager of ‘The Breach’ with Val, to jointly pay for the damages from the fight their two crews had caused. Both the Aetherial Reaver and Scarlett’s ship Lucien’s Blade were adventuring ships as much as pure corsairs, and over the last 6 months had come into conflict over treasure and mercenary work, and once over the final disposition of a recovered idol from the Darovian Empire. The Blade won that one. So when the two crews met in Brazen under the Skywaymen flag of truce, a fight was inevitable; and so long as their conflict stayed in the Dockyards, and their Captains took responsibility, no harm done. There was still no love between the Scarlet Corsair’s rowdy mob and his own disciplined Hawks; and after the row they had gotten into, well, ‘The Breach’ certainly lived up to its name.

After negotiations with the manager, the two captains retired to the Veranda for a bottle to celebrate their ‘detante’. Then time slipped away into laughter and her beautiful smile, their easy way of speaking and understanding a world that so few others do.
Zeppelin cringed, he hoped he had not let too much of his future plans slip as they talked last night. He couldn’t remember how guarded he had been. She would take advantage without a second thought, had in the past, and would again. But he could never tear himself away from her once they got to talking.
Hawke didn’t know which was worse, that he had once again ended up in bed with Captain Valerian Scarlett, or that he couldn’t tell if he was in his room or hers. He thought to himself, “Time to bite the bullet.” The last time he tried to sneak out, Zeppelin found himself on Dr. Sparrow’s operating theater with two deep knife wounds.

Zeppelin slips out of bed, and treks across the room to the WC to relieve himself keeping far from the suite door. He collects his sword, better to have it handy, breaches and boots, and then returns to the bed. Sitting on the bed he says gently, “Good morning Val, any interest in breakfast on the veranda?”

[kdtompos]

Eli: As soon as you open the door a crack, it comes flying open, threatening to crash into your face and likely bowl you over. You were ready for something to happen, but this may not have been it. You don't see anything at your own height, but quickly notice the figure of something half your size that's pressing against the other side of the door to get in though you can't tell exactly what yet beyond a furry exterior and the glint of some brass beside. What do you do?

Whatever you attempt, it's likely to be "Performing Under Pressure". So if you would please Roll+Poise!
Also, apologies for such a short reply, but you deserve time to react before anything progresses further.

Markus: The man clearly has no intentions beyond making his frustration and distaste apparent. Having done so, he shuffles on.

Should you be heading for the excavation site, then you have little doubt that there will be some blockades along the way. No one other than the working crews and authorities have access to that site any more. And should they learn you are actually one of Echidna's creations, you most definitely wouldn't find yourself within those recovered halls and passages.

Either way, the ruins are on the outskirts of the sprawling urban center of Brazen. You heard the Number 4 train only moments ago, which should be pulling into Worthington Station at this very moment. That's three blocks from here and up two levels from the streets... who in the world figured that design was the most efficient? In honesty, it's probably for aesthetic reasons more than functional: vehicles of any sort are rarely allowed on the street level where foot traffic takes priority.

The airdocks are also right on the edge of the French Quarter where you find yourself, though you'd need some sort of connection if you wish to attempt your travel by air. Zeppelin's are rarely used for intercity travel.

I suppose you could also simply run the streets or hire a carriage to shuttle you. That always means more gates to pass through than train, however, since the railway has all of its security right up front rather than at every district crossing. Or perhaps you have another plan? What would it be?

Meta: You take leave of the café and proceed to Crescent Street, which is only a block or so from where you are. It's so named because of it's semi-circular path that skirts the edges of the airdocks. It's a wonderful street for all manners of oddities and eclectic items. One would certainly never travel here if in the market for the fashionable or the mundane, but only if seeking inspiration itself. You pass a shop on your left called "Polterglass". While the inside of the shop is dark, still not open for the day, you can see the outline of various bottles and glassware that line the shelves. You've heard of this place, that claims to house spirits and souls in jars and bottles. Peculiar.

The streets are dark, shadows of the buildings and separate layers above cast along the streets. It's almost always dark on the street level, save for the few hours that the sun is at the zenith of its celestial track, where it's light can shine down through the urban layers and passages. Ahead now you can see the marquee at the Old Domino Theatre, where this sale is supposed to take place. There are two people already waiting outside the closed doors: a short, round man with bright red hair and a large jacket; and a young girl with her hair cut so short that you mistook her for a boy until you got close enough to note her petite features and the feminine cut of her clothes. The two don't appear to have come together, as the man is trying to peer through the dark windows while the young girl waits more patiently near the edge of the building, looking up at the city layer above.

What might you be looking for by the way, in the manner of rare or uncommon books. And more importantly, tell me more about your own bookstore? Where is it, what makes it unique, and how do you run it?

More relevant to the moment, however, what would you like to do while you wait for this to start?

Hawke: This clearly isn't your room--the revelation becoming more apparent as you cross to acquire your attire and blade. It's a bit in shambles, which is not in the least bit uncharacteristic of Valerian. Her own clothes are still beside the bed where they must have been discarded the night before. Her body continues to lie still, undisturbed by the whistle blasts of the number 4 outside.

As you take a seat on the bed, you immediately feel the pressure of a blade resting against your hip from beneath the sheets. You look to see Val's smirk as she slowly opens her eyes from the pretend slumber. "I wondered if you were going to just slip out again?" she quips. Even with her makeup rubbed away and amber hair disheveled, she's disarmingly beautiful. "Good choice this time. And the veranda sounds good." She begins to rise, but then casts you a sharp reprimand as she pulls the sheets up around her body. "You will allow me some privacy, won't you 'Captain'?!" You note the emphasis on "Captain". "Order me something light to cut this headache," she offers, breaking the harshness of her earlier snap.

You're not sure you trust her to be alone. But you also know that even with the familiarity the two of you share, it would be quite uncouth to stand guard as she dressed herself. What next?

[Recalcitrent]

While he didn't know what it was, Eli was in no mood to be quite so close to it, so as the door flies open, Eli tries to roll with the impact, using the momentum to push him back across the room, to give him some room to maneuver and some time to think how to get out of this mess.

Poise: [roll0]

[Rysc]

Meta nods curtly in some echo of decorum to the girl, the man being too busy trying to assess the stock, and settles in the shadows to wait. She herself was hoping for some of those esoteric treatises on the Impossible Dream or perhaps the human mind, but any "exotic" foreign book or ancient tome would work fine for her store.

Of course, relatively speaking, her "store" is less of a store and more of a sort of stall nestled in the entrance to her home (though that's also a relative term), in an street between two of the smaller academies, far away enough from the glare and roar of the main streets and close enough to still be visited by the roaming oddity-seekers. She laid out eleven books every day, rotating through her stock, and to the curious passerby or even the frequent visitor, the illusion was enough to make it appear that she never showed the same book twice. She remained behind the stall, or table, or whatever they call it, reading a twelfth book and occasionally responding to customers. Naturally, though, stock does not replenish itself, and to maintain that illusion, Meta had to spend a day roughly every week scouring the city.

As her customers agreed, her business model is rightly curious, and perhaps not the most profitable; but then again, it probably helps that the venture is merely a way to occupy her time between nights.

In the darkness of the buildings, Meta leans back against a wall and checks her pocket-watch. The antics of the man are somewhat amusing--why is he so intent? He'll be able to see inside perfectly well in some minutes. Human nature, or whatever it is.

[Captain Comos]

Hawke:

Captain Hawke collects his last few things, and breezes to the door, "As you wish, Captain," he says and steps out with a bow. As he closes the door behind him he thinks, at least leaving her alone is a reasonable trade off for an easy escape route. Hawke takes a few steps down the veranda until he finds the service bell near the lift. He gives a pull on the bell rope then finds a seat in the corner of the balcony, with a good view of the veranda. He pulls on his waistcoat and fixes his cravat, then tames his mustache and beard using the mirror polished blade of his hundred guinea sword.

When the waiter arrives, Zeppelin orders mamosa and some fruit and cheese. Then sends a message to his ship, Compliments to Doctor Sparrow, please send over a cabain boy to interrupt my breakfast with some ship's business as soon as it is convenient. signed Zeppelin.

[Gull]

Markus X
While curiosity, be it a learned response or a some mechanical imperative of his programming, cried for Markus to go directly to the dig, to see once again the halls he trode barefoot in the first hours of his life, he knew that to be too risky a behaviour. It had nothing to do with his mission, after all- he needed little information about his mother to add to his case for or against humanity, as he already knew more about her than any other.

It was instead some longing he couldn't formally identify. It was the same thing that he "felt" when in the air with the crew of the Reaver. A sense of place, a sense of belonging. The longer his mission went on, from the moment the charges in Arima went off and buried the place of his birth, the more keenly Markus felt how very alone he was among the people of the world. A judge's duty is one that is cold, calculating. There is no room for emotion. And yet, perhaps his crystal brain was too well made, or perhaps it was the living flesh that clothed his steel bones that was infecting him with base animal sincerity. The fact remained, if there was new information about his mother, specifically the fact he had an additional sibling, yet unborn, he wanted to know about it. Needed to know about it.

As such, he had been carefully cultivating relationships with several of the labourers at the dig. Originally a top-secret Select Division operation, security had lapsed considerably in the last fifteen years, especially with little to nothing of any interest being unearthed. As such, it was simple work to ingratiate himself with a handful of men, each unaware of one another, who he paid to supply him with information under the pretence of being a journalist. It was to one of these men he hurried to speak with now, one Arthur Ash of No. 34, Gilliken Street. He couldn't risk direct involvement with the Brassmen, no matter how convincing his living flesh might be, but visiting an old friend? Surely no one would bat an eye at that, even if it were a friendship based on commerce.

OOC: Sorry for the late reply, I hadn't noticed the update.

[kdtompos]

Eli: ((You are the first to mark Enlightenment! Tick 1 box for the 6- roll)) The door flies open and the corner crashes into your face with a force that causes everything to flash brilliantly white for a moment. The impact sends you toppling backwards, with the creature bursting through the opening it created.

((Suffer 1 Spirit loss and Roll 2d6+1-- Because I've already dictated results to save time, if you roll 6-, you may gain 1 resolve, or 1 Spirit back, or 1 Moxie. Likewise note that you may choose to lose additional Spirit if you wish to negate being thrown back, etc.))

The creature that bursts frantically into the room looks mostly canine, much like a german shepherd in shape and markings, but is clearly either fully or partially automated as there is exposed brass and pistons near its hindquarters as well as the left side of its face. The animal looks at you with as much surprise as you imagine you betray as well. Perhaps it wasn't hunting you, but has happened upon you in its own flight. Eitherway, with its ears back and a low grinding rumble in its throat, its apparent that it's not excited to see you.

You hear bells crashing and jingling down the hallway outside the door. If this animal avoided your alarms, whatever is coming next hasn't. What do you do?

Meta: It seems like much longer, but with your pocket-watch you can confirm that the wait is only 20 minutes more before someone holding a small gaslamp emerges from one of the back rooms and approaches the front door to let you all in. She's a tall woman, with straight black hair that hangs in a single braid down to the center of her back, in typical corsair fashion. Her skin is bronzed and freckled from hours in the sun, which is a notable contrast from the pasty skin of those who keep mainly to the street levels. No one else has joined you all in waiting.

As the door opens the short, red-headed gentleman is quick to burst through the doors and rush up the dimly lit, velvet staircases into the auditorium where the books must be held. He clearly covets the first opportunity to claim any books he finds particularly noteworthy. The young girl, however, looks to you inquisitively as if waiting for you to head in first rather then enter on her own. The skywaywoman who opened the door gives you a slight smirk, as if sharing a moment of amusement at the frantic actions of the man who barreled past.

o ------------------------------- . ------------------------------- o

Inside and up the stairs, the room opens up into a large auditorium absolutely filled with books. You can smell the paper and binding glue, as well as a hint of smoke and grease. One the stage are several tables with books spread across them rather haphazardly, or piled up in stacks that appear to be without any particular designation or organization. In the rows of cushions as well, there are stacks of various heights which occupy the seats like an oddly shaped audience.

The red-headed man already has about 4 books in his arms, which is less than you would have expected with his apparent haste. He eyes you and the young girl that has trailed you up the stairs with a look of warning, then resumes quickly scanning the piles. What's your plan here?

((As you look through the books, please roll 2d6+Logic or Dream... your choice. Additionally, you are performing under pressure, as odd as that sounds, from the red-headed gentleman who will be trying to beat you to any pile you search which he has not yet reached. So please also roll 2d6+Poise.))

Hawke: The young server takes your order as well as the message to relay to the Reaver.

You have the pleasure of sitting in silence for a bit, enjoying the view of the sun rising over Brazen. The air smells crisp, with a hint of coal from wafting in from the industries; the brass ornaments and details of the upper tiers glinting in the sunlight as the skyline shifts from reds and pinks to a warm, glowing orange. A plate of swiss and brie is presented along with some colorful cuts of melons and grapes, as well as a sparkling fluted-glass filled with the requested mimosa.

Val eventually emerges through the curtains, stepping out into the light on the veranda. She's wearing her typical ensemble of canvas and leather: clothes necessary for work rather than presentation. Honestly, anything else would have been surprising. But with the time that it took her, you might have hoped to be surprised. She flashes a brilliant, crooked smile as she often does when she sees you--equally endearing and intimidating. She also pulls a folded piece of parchment from her right pocket that looks painfully familiar. Your instinct is to reach into your own pocket to see if you still possess what must be its double. But you're certain the double doesn't exist, and that she indeed is holding what ought to be in your own possession.

"Care to share anymore with me regarding this?" she asks, relishing the reveal. "Or am I being impolite by skipping the small talk?"

At that moment MockingJay appears from the stairwell, clearly winded. You had asked for a cabin boy to "relieve you", so her appearance is somewhat unsettling. Likewise, she seems surprised as well as a little hurt to see you in the company of Ms. Scarlett. "Captain, we need you back at the Reaver, there's..." she pauses suddenly. While she has been trying to avoid eye contact with Valerian, she suddenly notices the parchment in her hand. "Is... is that...? Why do you have that!?"

What is on that parchment, Captain? And what do you do?

Markus X: ((No worries at all. I disappeared for about a week. I'm just glad you guys stuck around!))

About a block from No. 34, as you pace quickly down Gilliken Street, you get a strange feeling. You can see the small entrance to Arthur's flat at the end of the block, but there's a large gentleman out front with a large cane that you can see crackling lightly with blue energy even from here. This doesn't look right at all. Care to read a charged situation? Or do you have other plans?

((If you want to get your bearings, Examine a Scene by rolling 2d6+Logic. If you get 7-9, ask one of the following questions. If you get 10+, you may ask 3. You'll get +1 Forward to the first roll that acts on any of the answers.))


Where's my best escape route/way in/way past?
What danger is here or was recently here?
What should I be on the lookout for?
Who's in charge here?
Why is this place important?
[/LIST]

[Gull]

Where's my best way past?



Markus X

Markus, taking in the situation quickly, doesn't slacken his pace as instead of entering the domicile of one Mr. Ash, instead walks briskly past it and the large human blocking the door. Turning quickly at the next street, he ducks out of the view of the guardian and pauses to review his options. Given the tight quarters that Mr. Ash lived in, there must surely be a way to either see or hear what was going on at the apartment, and hopefully ascertain the identities of the men who were currently scotching his morning's activities.

Hey, what's my humanity currently at?

[Recalcitrent]

[roll0]
Dang, rolled too high :smalltongue:

Eli's first thought when he sees the canine creature is actually a memory, of a colleague, tinkering and manipulating machinery, many years ago, back in his old life. His second thought is merely "Marco's work has come a long way..." With that thought, Eli sheathed his knives, knowing that there would be no way he'd be able to take on one of Marco's pets with the knives he had on him. Instead, he holds his hands open, palms forward to show he has no weapons. "I certainly hope Marco has worked out how to make you mutts smarter, or else this is gonna end up bad." Quickly, hoping against hope, he whispers to the canine, "I don't want to fight you. If we do, we both die to whoever is chasing you. If we work together, we both live."

I'm guessing that this would be 2d6+Charm. If not, I'll retcon it later
[roll1]

[Rysc]

Meta inclines her head slightly at the girl and follows the man inside. She inwardly shares the skywaywoman's smirk. The books presumably will not disappear. And, as it is, no one else is even there. With the amount of books in the auditorium, it will be impossible for one of them to hog up all the desirable tomes, even if they wanted.

Once up the stairs, she pauses briefly to inhale the smell of old books, while inwardly assessing the auditorium. Deliberately keeping her distance from the overzealous man, she strides to the far end of the room, flicking her gaze over the haphazard stacks of books on the seats. There had to be at least one interesting book here.

Dream:[roll0]
Poise:[roll1]

[kdtompos]

Markus X
Currently your humanity is only 1. This is because of your "Walk with the Animals" move. The others have 0 moxie at the moment, so you have a leg up on them from that move. After these short vignettes to get a feel for your characters, you'll get to roll for additional Moxie/Humanity.

The best way past is one of the alleyways that surrounds the complex where Mr. Ash lives. From the side street where you've currently turned, there's an alley that passes behind the building that looks clear as far as you can currently tell. From there you're likely to find a ladder or staircase to the roof, and maybe some windows to get inside the building if you're desperate. Mr. Ash's room is on the 4th floor, the top floor of this building. It has two windows that face the main street, and one window that faces a side alley.

You might be able to hear from the alley alone, but certainly getting closer would reveal more. The only question is how.

Eli:
Yeah, the roll for taking damage works opposite of most, where you want to roll low. So you suffer 1 spirit loss, moving you to "Winded". But after about an hour or so of rest, that recovers quickly.
Also, you guessed right on the next roll too. Well done. Feel free to roll stuff if you think it's applicable, and if the roll isn't actually used I'll just ignore it. So potentially some great or bad rolls will be lost, which stinks, but it seems the most equitable way to do it.

You can't be certain this creature is Marco's work, though your memory is certainly jogged by the similarities. Should you have a moment to do so, it might be worth trying to verify or refute. The canine growls at you, lowering its shoulders but raising its ears and pulling back its lips to reveal metallic jaws beneath.

Your own actions are risky, sheathing your weapon, but it pays off. The animal clearly isn't hunting you, and your display of peace. Its posture relaxes at it sniffs at your extended hand, and the low growl calms to reveal a steady clicking and whirring that hums beneath the fleshy exterior. It doesn't reply verbally to your plea to work together, but seems to understand the implications of it as it turns from you to face the open door. There's a growing rumbling and scraping moving down the tight corridor, now clearly past your early warning system. Any bright ideas?

Meta: While you may try to keep your distance from the overzealous man, he is deliberately trying to keep from ever getting too far from where you are and the piles you're searching. Half of his time is spent perusing tomes, while the other is spent studying you and trying to determine whether you've found anything of interest.

There's a small pile toward the back of the stage that has only about 5 to 10 strange books. You haven't examined them closely yet, but their covers are clearly exotic--bound in embroidered cloth rather than the typical leather or canvas covering. You'd guess they have their origins in one of the other distant kingdoms, most likely the north. People seem fascinated with the spiritual practices of the northerners these days, and you imagine you could sell them quickly and at a good price if that is indeed what they are.

And in the second row of the auditorium, you strike gold. This pile looks to have been confiscated or lifted from a courier headed to one of the universities, which makes it slightly more contraband than the rest but also more intriguing. There are textbooks on top of textbooks dealing specifically with the Impossible Dream as well as theories into how the human psyche is able to tap into it. The first one you examine is even filled with notes in the margins and a couple loose pages of personal notes. And about 3 books down is a bundle of 5 non-descript journals fastened with a leather belt. You feel your heart jump a little as you note the monogram on the cover of the first: JLM. Julius Leonardo Montevello, one of your uncle Aldric's closest acquaintances and colleagues. These must be a bundle of his own personal notes!

Before you can grab them, however, they are snatched by a round pink hand. The red-headed gentleman clearly doesn't know what he has, but he can tell that you seemed to be interested in it ((you may not actually be interested in it, he's just guessing)). He also starts to gather the other books in the pile for his own collection, without even fully knowing what they are. He just wants to "claim" them before you are able to. How do you react?!

[Rysc]

Meta does not bother with the discreet cough, or even the typical pseudo-surprised spluttering. This is not just about books.

"Sir." Her tone is frigid. Her gray eyes are hard as steel. If the man had turned to try to ignore her, he would have found her grip just as hard.

"Perhaps you have good reason to act as you do, but I find that highly unlikely. I had thought that we were all ladies and gentlemen here, but it seems I was mistaken. How unfortunate. I have reason to believe that several, if not all of those books belonged to a close friend of an uncle of mine. See to the monogram on that journal; it belonged to one Julius Leonardo Montevello. And, I am guessing, should you choose to bluster tenuously that those initials could belong to anyone, that you could find the owner's name within the first few pages. Since you do not seem to have any motives beyond rapacity in snatching these personal artifacts, I request that you return them to me." She indicates his considerable pile of books with a curt nod. "You seem to be already well provisioned, if not a bit...hastily."

Assuming this is trying to negotiate/ convince, and so rolling Charm:[roll0]

[Gull]

Markus X

Markus slipped down the alley, careful to keep away from prying eyes. Appraising the fixtures of Mr. Ash's building, he placed the sole of one shoe on a crate and propelled himself upwards, grabbing on to a ladder that led to the roof of the building. He climbed up, mechanically, and then peeked cautiously into the open window that faced the alley.

[Recalcitrent]

Eli positions himself next to the canine creature, slightly behind, knives drawn, ready to face whoever comes through the door...or to help the hunters capture their quarry, whichever kept his skin attached to his bones.

[Captain Comos]

[roll0]
Dumbstruck by the presence of the parchment, Zeppelin tuts with disappointment as he begins to speak, “I thought we finally had a working relationship Captain Scarlett. We were able to work out the disagreement of our crews and this dawn was going to herald a new day of detente between the Reaver and the XXX. In that spirit of this... new relationship... I will tell you what this parchment is. It’s a map.”

[roll1]

Hawke shakes his head and slips in next to Val... At the same time he catches MockingJay’s eyes and with a wiggle of eyebrow and a nod to communicate that she should set up a flank on the Captain. “See these?” he says pointing at the parchment, “Those are the lightning cannon emplacements.... and these X’s show auto-cannons... and finally, these arrows here, here and here are the wind currents between the peaks. Knowing how the wind flows should give an experienced airship pilot a chance to get between the peaks without being blown into the jagged rocks.”

Gently slipping one hand onto the map, Hawke continues... “Now you know. This is a very expensive and hard to get map of the defences of the cloud fortress of Xim the Despot...” Once Jay is in a tactically advantageous position, Hawke wrenches it from her grip. “And you will have to settle for the copy you just made. This map is MINE.”

[roll2]

[kdtompos]

Meta:
I would instead rule that Meta is "Asserting her Authority", which becomes a Vigor roll. I'd be happy to explain why if your curious, and also welcome disagreement if you make a good case. But in short, to "Entice, Negotiate or Convince" implies some bargaining or leverage where asserting authority is a bit more of a blunt force which I see utilized well here.
The short gentleman visibly ruffles at your outburst. While you imagine he must encounter attitudes like this fairly often, he seems a bit dumbstruck by your words. For a moment he goes to check the journals, in hopes of discrediting your claims, but quickly stays his hand. Perhaps he believes you, and would rather exit this encounter with what honor he can salvage. He does study you for a moment further, however.

"Gladly," he replies with a wide grin that suggests a mirth his eyes clearly do not share. "I love journals, among other things as you've noted, but would never dream of snatching up one that is so personally valuable to you." He hands you the small stack of books tied with the belt. He also leaves the rest of the pile for you to peruse, but not before smirking as he observes their quasi-contraband nature. "I didn't realize these were University books," he mutters. "Perhaps it's for the best."

He then moves to another pile in the same row, though has not separated himself more than a few feet. What do you wish to do now?

Markus X: Climbing the ladder is a pretty simple task, and their doesn't appear to be anyone around whose gaze you might need to avoid. As you near the window, you can hear a couple voices inside Mr. Ash's flat. There's mention of a shipment, some favors, and a rather threatening tone on part of whoever's speaking (not a familiar voice).

Looking in the window itself would require a bit of a stretch from the ladder. It wouldn't be impossible, but you'd likely have to grip onto the brick of the building to support yourself. ((Roll 2d6+Poise to act under pressure)). Should you do so, how to you hope to remain unseen? Or does that even matter?

Eli: Two red-caps come around the corner--local authorities that must have been pursuing the hound. The more rotund one with a drooping mustache seems a bit winded and grins reflexively as he sees the cornered animal, while the leaner one slowly raises his crackling baton in a defensive manner... he's more concerned about you. "I hope 'e isn't yours." says the leaner, nodding his head toward the dog but not taking his eyes off of you and your drawn blades. "We're sorry to startle you, but we're after the hound. I don't want to put you in danger, so there's no need to try and apprehend it yourself. We can 'andle it."

You can't help but suspect his worry about putting you in danger doesn't really have to do with the dog.

Hawke:
As interesting as things might get with added complications from that low charm roll, I don't see a need for Hawke to be rolling "entice, negotiate or convince". By the descriptive actions and plausible reason to need to get close, it works well. Unfortunately, that also means you won't get the enlightenment.
Snatching the map from Valerian receives a wicked strike from the concealed longblade dangling at her side. She had clearly anticipated treachery, but not with the masterful speed you displayed. You have plenty of time to deflect the blade should you desire and even free yourself from such close proximity. The blade that Mockingjay lifts in reply certainly aids the situation as well.

"Apologies," Val whimpers with a modicum of sincerity, hinting that perhaps she didn't actually intend to react so violently. "You should know better than to snatch something so quickly from a skyway-woman, but I'm glad to see you were at least prepared." She calmly replaces the blade, with an annoyed stare toward Mockingjay who has yet to lower her own. "I don't wish to quarrel, I'm just infinitely curious. And to put your mind at ease: while I appreciate the benefit of the doubt, I have made no copy of it. You bragged about it last night..." she then glances suggestively toward Mockingjay, "amongst other boasts... and I foresaw a potentially enjoyable conversation where I might make you squirm a bit more."

Your crewmate lowers her blade and pierces you with a look that pleads for an exit.

"And it seems your girl here came with rather urgent news. You are free to take your leave then, if you must."

[Recalcitrent]

Upon seeing the two red-caps show up, Eli sighs inwardly. It would be easier to just let them take the dog away, but his description would, sooner or later, trickle its way to the Brassmen, and that would bring the exact kind of attention he was trying to avoid. That means he would have to make sure they didn't get to report back. "Gah, what an ordeal this is going to be."
Outwardly, though, Eli puts on an ingratiating smile,. "Oh, the dog? No, no, he isn't mine," He says, as he slowly lowers his knives, looking like he is going to sheathe them, "He, or is it a she? Anyways, he burst in here, interrupting my- Mid-sentence, Eli quickly throws his right-hand knife in an underhand throw at the red-cap with the baton drawn, which is quickly followed by an overhanded throw at the leaner with his left hand.

Really not sure which rolls I'd need here, or how many, especially since I'm on a work computer, so I don't have any of my information here.

I got a 4 :smalltongue:

[kdtompos]

Not a problem! Here's what you can roll:
Smack Some Sense
Roll 2d6+Vigor. On a 10+, do your harm as established and choose 3 of the following options. On a 7-9, do your harm and choose 2, but you have left yourself open to retaliation:

You protect yourself from loss of Spirit
You inflict terrible harm upon your target(s)
Your enemy is stunned and awed by your force and skill
You end up where you want, ready for whatever comes next
You seize what you want from the enemy or environment


Also, be aware that with these moves that involve choices, not choosing an option usually indicates that the opposite will happen (e.g. if you don't choose to "protect yourself from loss of Spirit", you will likely lose spirit. Likewise, if you do not choose to "end up where you want, ready for whatever comes next," then you will likely end up somewhere else and a bit off-balance; etc.)

[Rysc]

That makes sense. I was torn between the two when trying to figure out what to roll, but luckily the modifier's the same anyway.
"Well, I'm glad we both agree about that." Meta carefully lifts the stacked books and walks around to the next row. She briefly scans the tomes in the row (and the actions of the man behind), then stalks out again and to the pile of books at the back of the stage. She places her books down and then positions herself next to it in such a way that if someone would try to rush and grab the books before she got a chance to properly look at them, he would most likely run into her claimed stack of books or herself, and would instead have to slow down to try to get to the books.

Casting one last glance--or perhaps it is more properly a glare--at the man, Meta lifts the first book up and flips through its pages, hoping to get more of an idea of its contents, while casually resting her arm on the rest of the pile.

[Captain Comos]

"My first responsibility is to the Reaver, as yours is to the Blade." Hawke elegantly kisses Valerian's hand, holding the map firmly in his other hand. "Neither one of us would have it any other way. Until we meet again Captain... Perhaps in Xim's cloud fortress." he finishes with a smile.

Hawke follows Mockingjay to the lift. As the motors whir carrying them up to the cable cars that lead to the skydocks he asks Jay sidelong, "So is something wrong? I was expecting a powder monkey for my graceful exit. I am surly glad that you were there. I really don't know how that would have ended without backup."

[Gull]

Markus X
Window peeping, though apparently a favourite activity of humans, did not appear feasible to Markus, so he instead settled for attempting to more easily hear what the occupants of Mr. Ash's apartment were going on about.

[roll0] Poise roll, if required. Specifically, Markus is hoping to ascertain if Mr. Ash is indeed inside his apartment, or if the bully-boys are waiting for him.

[kdtompos]

Eli: Your dagger flicks through the air and buries itself deep in the wall just beside the leaner red-cap. He's incredibly quick on the uptake, and charges you in response. You are just about to throw your second at the winded one when you feel the familiar sensation of a shock-baton driving into your gut, causing your muscles to cease and your head to swim, in addition to possibly breaking one of your ribs from the impact.
2 Spirit loss, ignores armor and "stuns" you, which means that any following actions other than stumbling around in a daze are performed under pressure. You'll also need to roll 2d6+2 for the endure a blow move, to see how you take the blow.
But on a lighter note, you can mark a point of Enlightenment!

The second man looks positively shocked by your reaction, and bumbles to compose himself in order to join in the apprehension. But before he can join in, the german shepherd leaps between the two of you, baring its metallic teeth and unleashing an unceasing, synthetic bark that forces the man backwards against the doorframe.

((Depending somewhat on your "Endure a Blow" roll...)) The leaner gentleman rests back in a ready pose, curious to see if you still want to resist but ready to strike you again with the baton that crackles and sizzles in his hands.

Meta: The red-headed vagabond gives you the space you desire, though you suspect that is only because of your vigilance.

The book you pick up is bound with a padded cover of embroidered silk, with letters on the front that you don't recognize beyond their Ancient Mendonian origins. Flipping through the pages reveals that the entire contents are in this foreign language, though there are woodblock prints of prepared meals such as a roasted fowl and various noodle dishes. "It's a cookbook." the young girl says, without looking up from a book she's quietly inspecting near the front of the stage. Three other people have entered the auditorium now: a tall woman with an extravagant hat and hourglass figure, and two gentleman in much more subtle clothing who may or may not be accompanying her.

"I was looking at it earlier. Can you read it?"

One of the men who recently entered approaches the red-headed man you confronted earlier, who begins speaking with him in hushed tones while glancing your direction.

Hawke: "Jack didn't come back last night." Jay replies sharply, with a hint of frustration in her voice, though likely not at you. "I know they do their thing when we're docked, but you know we were supposed to check in this morning for weekly assignments. And to be honest, that's not like Mr. Robin. I probably wouldn't bother you were it anyone else, but I have a really bad feeling about this."

Markus: You're actually fairly comfortable from your perch. And even if you can't make out all the words, you can hear Mr. Ash's voice in reply. He doesn't sound frightened, or pleading, but more than a little agitated. In fact, his voice is growing a little louder as he nears the window. "... these accusations. I've been more than helpful so far, and your claims are incredibly unfounded." Suddenly the window pane slides open, about 3 feet from where you're perched. "You know how I get claustrophobic when I'm frustrated, and I was expecting this visit to be much more cordial." he rebukes.

[Captain Comos]

Hawke muses pensively, "You are right that this isn't like him. Do you have any idea what his plans were? We can't very well stop all the refit work on the ship and send the whole crew combing the town for him. Who is not on the Work rotation today, we can put together a detail." Hawke and Jay alight the C tram to docking tower that is the berth of the Aetherial Reaver.

[Rysc]

Meta pauses to closer inspect the prints. "Unfortunately, no. But it's a beautiful book,, even if its subject is rather mundane." She gestures towards the rest of the books. "Actually, even just the bindings themselves are beautiful, even if I'm not sure what's actually in them."

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the men talking together. She had plenty of memories of secretive tones and furtive glances, and this particular instance seems to fit neatly under "suspicious." Of course, it could just be the possibly-Academy books, though in this case the skywaywoman in charge of this whole sale would be responsible. It could be something else, though.

She bends down to pick up her stack of books, placing the cookbook on top, and then addresses the girl, smiling wryly. "Were you interested in any of those foreign books? After an earlier incident, I'd rather not take anyone's books by accident. If not, I'll take a few. I'm afraid I've overstayed my time here, so I'll have to just hope for the best and inspect them more carefully at home."

[kdtompos]

Eli: The shock of the baton sends your second blade skating across the floor before you were able to throw it. Your muscles feel tense and sore from the jolt. And while the less athletic red-cap staves off the mechanical hound, the other eyes you down with his crackling baton, trying to gauge whether he needs to strike you again before apprehending you, as few are still standing after a shock such as that one.

Markus: As you maintain your perch near the window, you suddenly notice a small parcel--slightly smaller than one's head--drop from the opening discreetly. Apparently Mr. Ash had more of a purpose behind opening that window than just getting some air. The parcel drops three stories and lands with a dull thud in the side alley below where it only tumbles a foot or so before resting still in the shadows. "Well I suppose if you insist that I'm trying to deceive you, then you're going to be searching my flat?" Comes Mr. Ash's voice from inside the room.

Meta:
"Oh, no, you can keep them." the girl replies, somewhat embarrassed at even the hint of a conflict. "I just saw you looking at them, and... they are very beautiful. Enjoy them." She leaves you to gather the books and make your exit.

The red-headed gentleman continues to watch you as you leave and make accounts for your books. ((1 influence should cover the small pile)) As you walk outside into the shaded streets, the other layers towering above you and preventing the sunlight from fully filtering to these streets, you notice the men gathering in the foyer at the entrance to the auditorium you just vacated. They don't appear that interested in you, but you suspect otherwise.

There are more people out now, a dozen or so that pace this shimmering street, staring into the windows at the fascinating oddities within. A well-dressed man, in top hat and coat-tails, is casually trotting atop a black horse, heading your direction from the south.

[Rysc]

1 influence it is, then!

Meta thanks the skywaywoman and head out, discreetly glancing at the men as she places the books in her bag. Once in the street, she pauses, then slowly strides in the direction of the rider, casually looking over the curios in the windows. The men are rather suspicious, and she'd rather not head back to her shop just yet. She could spare today, anyway. A long, circuitous route through the more popular districts should do fine.

[Recalcitrent]

With a shuddering gasp, Eli manages to draw a breath in past the shock of the baton and the pain of his possibly broken rib, but his vision refuses to stop swimming before his eyes. He backs up slightly to be out of easy reach of the red-cap with the baton, and adopts a more defensive pose, but ready to step in should his opponent seek to gang up on the canine contraption. Hopefully, the dog could handle the one red-cap, then help Eli out, as this red-cap is in much better condition to fight than Eli is, and better equipped as well. No way he could win this offensively.

I got an 8

[Gull]

Markus X
How curious.

Markus, his attention seized suddenly by the package that had been hastily ejected, decided to abandon his eavesdropping and instead slid easily down the ladder, retrieved the package and walked casually away from the building in an effort to get somewhere more private where he could inspect what Mr. Ash had jettisoned.