Apocalypse World: It's All Over - Part 1

[ImNotTrevor]

“Maybe those nihilist philosophers are right; maybe this is all we can expect of the universe, a relentless crushing of life and spirit, because the equilibrium state of the cosmos is death.” -Arthur C. Clarke

It is drizzling, and cold. A bitter wind blows over The Cross, making the tall wire structure serving as the hold’s namesake sway and rattle with each gust. Every so often, the crack of a rifle echoes across the hills and into the ears of the insufficiently bundled vagabonds that wheel and shuffle their way through the bazaar, tracking mud on well-worn boots as they go. Most warm themselves with hot water, only occasionally mixed with some leaf or another for flavor, drunk out of chipped mugs, old cans, or the occasional plastic cup. Among the hustle and bustle are our protagonists. One would say “our heroes,” but it’s too early to call them that. And it may be a lie even now.

Old Blood
You’re stuck dealing with Dreck again. His clothes are ripped, he has a black eye, and he hasn’t shut up since Arrow and Wheeler dragged his soggy @ss into the Chalet you all use as a courthouse/town hall and threw him down at your feet. What happened here?

Lucas
You’re crouching in a hollowed-out car that smells like piss and cigarettes with your pants around your ankles, sweating like a pig and hoping to any resident deities that Fizz doesn’t find you. What on earth did you do to piss that woman off, and why are you hiding?

Trig
Mother-sucker. Another hog has gone and scampered out of your sights thanks to that prick Gash and his loud feet. The only thing keeping you from knocking him out right now is the thought of Spigot. What did Spigot say or do to make you be this patient with Gash? For that matter, who on earth is Gash, and how did you end up with this moron along for the ride?

Blender and Breeze
Breeze, you’ve had this weird feeling all morning long and you just can’t shake it. Like someone is watching you. Unfortunately, you can’t let it bother you too much since Old Blood is expecting you up at the Chalet in the next 15 minutes. What’s Old Blood meeting you about?

Blender, how long have you been following Breeze around for? Actually, the better question is, who’s baby is that in your arms and how did it come to be there?!


Please read the scene openers for everyone. I’ve made some motions and asked you all some questions that may require working together OOCly to come to an agreement.
You may be thinking to yourself “what on earth” and that is good. I want you to be off-balance. If you are genuinely at a loss for anything to do or say, please PM me and I’ll suggest some things. Feel free to describe and/or enhance NPC’s as you need/want to.

[spwack]

The small infant, wrapped in swaddling ripped and filthy swaddling rags is sleeping soundly. Which is good, as if it woke up and was annoying, Blender would have it to deal with it. The mother passed it off to him before collapsing in a pile of rags, needles and blood a few hours ago said it was his. It probably isn't, but Blender isn't taking any chances. Because if it is... well, maelstrom manipulation has been known to be inherited, and anything could be possible.

If it isn't someone will probably take it of his hands for a few jingle. Eh.

For the past few days Blender has been watching the comings and goings around the area, specifically the Skinner. He has no idea why he has fixated so closely on the beautiful creature, just a gut feeling. Keep in mind, this is a gut feeling of a Brainer. Reason enough to pay attention when Chalet started getting a little crowded. Baby in hand, Blender makes his way towards the building, through the crowd, hood down...

... if, of course, Breeze heads over there first. If not, I'll be heading back to my bolthole on the other side of town to drop this baby off. I love that sentence.

Additionally, I'd like to put my violation glove on, if it isn't already. Blender always, and I mean always has it on. A useful habit.

[Dudeons]

When a lady follows a man, she is either in love with him, or she seeks to rob him. Sadly, Fizz seems to be a lady of the second category. While people trying to kill him was par for the course as far as Lucas was concerned, this was the first time someone stole his belt before he could draw his rapier. As mortifying as the resulting exposure would normally be, the fact that the belt held his weapons was equally concerning. Thus, Lucas was stuck in this foul-smelling hiding spot, knowing that Fizz was looking for him. He tries to glance out at the general area, analyzing the situation.

Is this a place where I could 'Read a charged situation'? Once again, I'm new to this system. :smallredface

[ImNotTrevor]

Blender

I have seen your post, and I know the thoughts of your heart. I will address it when we know more about what Breeze does. This is just here to assure you, my child, that I have witnessed you.
Also, feel free to wear your violation glove. In fact, what does that thing even look like? Is it actual tech or some weird techno-voodoo? Tell us about it.


Lucas
Hot sh*t, man, this situation looks really charged. Let’s see what you can make of it.

On a 10+, Ask 3 questions from the following. On a 7-9, ask 1. On a miss...you won’t like a miss. If you follow what I tell you, you get a +1 to do it. Here’s the questions:
•where’s my best escape route / way in / way past?
• which enemy is most vulnerable to me?
• which enemy is the biggest threat?
• what should I be on the lookout for?
• what’s my enemy’s true position?
• who’s in control here?

[roll0]



Some thoughts. On things like this, with questions, go ahead and ask the questions in the OOC. That will make this area a bit more pleasant to read through. A tad more narrative.

[Gull]

"Thanks for coming, Dreck, I appreciate it," said Old Blood. When Rooney ran the Cross, she always said that when you talked business, people liked it when you came across polite. That Dreck didn't come here of his own accord didn't enter into it, that Dreck was here for unpleasantness, well, that didn't matter none either. What mattered was being the boss, and the boss was in control. The boss talked like what he was doing was no big deal, because the boss didn't have a worry in the world. To the boss, running things was the same as breathing: what the boss was born to do.

Dreck was the worse for wear. When Arrow and Wheeler jumped him on his way back to the Iron Lords, he must've known the game was up, known that Old Blood was onto him. No one in the River Holds was ignorant of who those two worked for, and what kind of work the boss had for them.

That was okay. It wasn't like the little scuffing they gave him was anything compared to what Old Blood had in store.

"Word's got it that you broke the rules, Dreck. I don't got a lot of rules for the Cross, for the market here, because I like people to feel at home. Feel at ease in the fellowship of their fellow man, you understand? But you know, and everyone who comes here knows, when you break those rules, then you become an example."

Breeze should be here by now. Old Blood was counting on it. It was Breeze who had sussed out what was going on here.

"You been selling tat in my market, Dreck. And you been getting an awful haul for it. Powerful lot of jingle for some real garbo scav. You think I wouldn't find out that what you been selling ain't what you been selling?"

Breeze had a way of looking into things without looking like he was. He got around. He wasn't officially on the Cross' accounts, as he liked his freedom, but he and Old Blood went back, and he had come through when it counted, more times than Old Blood could remember. It was the talespitter who had confirmed Old Blood's suspicions. What Dreck had been selling was proxies. He was using the market for accessibility, selling bits and bobs and keeping accounts. But when he took a pile of jingle for a useless bit of scav, what he was really selling was one of things you couldn't sell in the Cross, not unless you wanted a brand.

"No one sells people in the Cross," said Old Blood. His voice had been getting louder, presenting his judgment for the benefit of his hold. People liked that, a little show. Do them good; the weather was such garbage that people were getting sick. "You been selling slaves, most recently to the Iron Lords. I don't hold with that."

He looked over, and spied Breeze coming through in the hall.

"We got a witness. He'll tell you all about it and then we'll get on with it."

In the brazier beside him, hot coals glowed. A battered steel kettle shared space with a branding iron. A cross glowed red hot.

[ImNotTrevor]

Old Blood
Dreck had shut up when Old Blood started talking. First time he’d gone without sputtering since he’d been dragged in the place. Behind Old Blood, Silence stood with a gun in hand in case sh*t turned ugly.

Well...in case it turned a certain flavor of ugly that was not on today’s menu, that is.

Dreck looked into Old Blood’s eye. Old Blood would see fear in Dreck’s green eyes. Despite Dreck’s knobbed hands and terrible coat, he had eyes like a beautiful woman. Emerald with flecks of blue, and long lashes. If it weren’t for his large nose and thick eyebrows, one could almost mistake his eyes for those found on the women in the half-rotted nudie mags Arrow kept hung up in his house. Those eyes were now afraid, angry, and darting between Old Blood and the brand.

“Blood, listen, I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about! I don’t know what I’m sellin’, alright? They promised me it wasn’t people. I ain’t a slaver no more, you know that. They, they kicked me out remember?” He lifted his shirt to show the old slaver tattoo that had been carved out with a cruel, x-shaped scar. “Why...why would they want me sellin’ for ‘em again after I brought so many of those young kids over here to be set free, yeah? Right? Remember? That was me. Good ‘ol Dreck. That’s me. I don’t know what this is about, Blood. I just don’t know!”

Dreck was practically bowing to Old Blood as if in reverence to some ancient, long-dead god of pain. “Please, Blood, we can’t be hasty!”

Lucas
Fizz is outside of the car, man. She’s about 10 feet away, and it sounds like she’s facing the other way and just.. standing there.

“Come out, Lucas!”

This is when you realize that Fizz is not your enemy. The way her voice loses conviction there at the end. No no, Fizz is just a pawn in this game. Your true enemy is somewhere else. You might be able to push there if you can just talk to her. But that also means sticking your head out there.


If you try to talk to her, I’ll give you a +1 to whatever roll that happens to turn into.

[Dudeons]

Lucas takes a deep breath, pulling up his pants and mustering his dignity. He stands up and starts walking towards Fizz.

"You know," Lucas says, "On a day like this, I'd much rather give a lady my coat than my belt."

I think this would qualify as a 'Seduce or Manipulate' roll, since it's not trying to be threatening.

[Chronicler]

Trig muttered a few choice curses under his breath. He was an excellent marksman, but with the persistent drizzle and the white clouds of his exhalations fogging up his optics, he had made the decision to close in for a better shot. On a clearer day, he wouldn't have thought twice about firing from two hundred yards out, but with such windy conditions he wanted to increase his chance of a kill as much as possible, and that meant shortening the range to his target.

At approximately fifty yards away, just across Chemin de la Côte-Sainte-Catherine from the eastern edge of Parc Beaubien, he had the feral hog that he'd been tracking lined up squarely in his sights. It was a big one too, at least one hundred eighty pounds, probably closer to two hundred. Hell of a lot of bacon, he thought with anticipation. Stifling his urge to salivate and focusing instead on regulating his breathing, he was just about to pull the trigger when his target spooked and darted behind a dense thicket. "Damnit!"

Spinning around, Trig easily spotted the source of the metallic popping noise that had startled the hog. Gash, who he had ordered to stay put further back about a hundred yards, had disobeyed him and moved up, stepping on a rusted hubcap along the way. "Jesus Christ, I told you to hold your position. You're the goddamn spotter." The two of them were well inside Outremont territory, a contested no man's land that lay between The Cross and The Town. And scouts and scavengers from the other side were always a constant threat in the area, one that the boy should have been keeping an eye out for, for the both of them.

Even at twenty years of age, Gash still looked like a scrawny teenager. Why the hell Spigot had begged Trig to bring the incompetent idiot along was beyond him. Sure, The Cross could always use another hunter to help bring fresh meat in, but Gash was hopelessly clumsy and frankly too chicken sh*t. I can't train him if he doesn't even have a basic knack for it, he fumed. But what could he do? Spigot was his only supplier for the armor piercing rounds that he preferred to use, an expensive luxury in this time of scarcity. So when the armorer insisted that he take his nephew along on his next hunt, he couldn't exactly refuse. You're lucky I owe your uncle or I'd leave your *ss out here.

Wet, tired, and annoyed, Trig was ready to return home to the Chalet, a twenty-five minute hike on foot from where they were now. Grabbing Gash by the shoulder, he pushed the boy back in the direction he had just come. But before they could take more than a few steps, a shockingly human-sounding squeal of terror pierced the cold air. Whipping his HK416 around, the surprised gunlugger peered through its scope and caught sight of the hog, in the midst of its death shriek, being violently torn in half in a wild spray of gore and blood. "What the f-," he muttered, dry-swallowing. Blinking profusely, he tried to make sense of what he'd just witnessed. What the hell could rip apart a nearly two hundred pound razorback with such impunity? Some thing had grabbed hold of the animal and held it suspended in the air. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but the swine's attacker seemed strangely opaque and amorphous, and moved with a sinuous grace.

There were sporadic rumors of crazy sh*t like this back at the Chalet. Certain wackos there would claim to anyone who'd listen that monsters were crawling all over Laval. Trig had never given any of their irrational rantings any credence, until today. But he definitely wasn't going to stick around to verify if they were actually right. F*ck that, it was time to split. Hissing at Gash, he urged Spigot's useless nephew forward. "C'mon, move it! Run!"

[Amaril]

"Save it, Dreck," Breeze announces as he steps dramatically through the entrance. Truth be told, he's hardly in any mood to be theatrical--as if all this isn't unpleasant enough, he'd swear someone's been tailing him on the way up--but he knows well the value of keeping up appearances. He avoids glancing over his shoulder and maintains a respectful distance from Blood and the rest of the proceedings. The effort to look intimidating is a little weakened by the pitter-patter of Patch's paws on the floor as he darts energetically around Breeze's boots, but he decides ignoring the fox is better on balance than picking him up.

"You f***ed up," he continues, eyes fixed impassively on the accused slaver. "Thought that crew the Lords sent you would keep in line, right? Hold off on getting their faces seen in town?" He shakes his head, affecting disappointment. "They got sloppy, Dreck. Came into Elly's three nights back. Guess they got tired of squatting out in the dirt. I couldn't help but notice one of them--skinny girl, think she said her name was Blondie, presumably ironic--was playing around with that old luxe knife you had at your place last week." He moves in a little closer, trying to mirror the closing of his logical net. "I got to talking with them, and before long one guy let slip about some hunter they'd nabbed just off the Townroad. Soon as he brought it up, all the others practically bit his head off, and Blondie jumped in with something about how her buddy was drunk and meant to say this hunter shot first, and they had to take her down. On a hunch, I asked if any of them recognized the poor f***, and got a lot of shaking heads."

He stops again, pausing for effect. "Moth was supposed to be out on the Townroad just before she was missed. You wouldn't happen to have known that, would you, Dreck?"

[spwack]

Blender gazed impassively at the Skinner as he marched into the Chalet, fox darting around his heels. Something was up. On one hand, he really wanted to see what was going on inside the courthouse. On the other hand, he had an aversion to being shot. But there was more than one way to find out what was going on inside. With not an inconsiderable effort, he lowered his mental bulwark against the throbbing miasma just outside of his field of vision. Released his anxiety, worry and uncertainty into the maelstrom, and waited to see what it would give back...

[ImNotTrevor]

So I’ve discovered that I can’t see rolls via my mobile connection. This is unfortunate, since I do most of this through mobile with some assistance from Google Drive and my work pooter. So, since this post will require a lot of rolls and I both A) can’t see the rolls I make and B) don’t want to go back and edit in what happened, I will be using the standard google dice roller.
Remember, I have no reason to change the outcomes of your rolls. I just want to see what happens.
As far as the permanency of this solution, I’ll have to see. But without further ado, the GM post.


Lucas

2d6+1 ---> 5,3,+1= 9

Fizz spins around and faces you, her finger hovering over the trigger. Her eyes betray her hesitance to open fire and send you back to whatever cruel gods brought you to live in this forsaken waste.

“I’ll get your coat either way, once I’ve shot you. And more than that, too.” Your rapier has been hastily stuck through a belt-loop on her pants, and you can see your belt discarded in the mud. The leather is going to be soaked and muddy by the time you get to make an attempt and cleaning it.

For now, Fizz grits her teeth and seems to be willing herself to shoot. She’s teetering the edge between hostile and not. You’ve got to give her some concrete assurance that you have a better offer than whoever is making her do this before she’ll do anything you want her to.


Trig
As you run, you can hear a rattling behind you. Like someone shaking a bag of walnuts. The sound blends with the screeching of the bisected hog to produce a sound that would keep ANYONE up at night. You probably won’t sleep well.

Gash is sucking in air in deep breaths as he sprints to keep up with you, nearly tripping over a log.

You hear more of the rattling, and the whispers and snaps of grass and twigs being crushed by your pursuer.

Since you’re running away (and now are being pursued) i’ll make an Act Under Fire roll, here.
2d6+1 ---> 3,3,+1= 7

Gash stumbles again, this time grabbing your armor from behind and tipping you off balance. As you recover, something lashes out at you, slashing a claw across your armor and finding purchase along the back of your bicep. (3 harm - 2 armor = 1 harm. This is not yet a battle, but the moment it IS, you are NOT TO BE F*CKED WITH.)

The same sweeping claw shreds through Gash’s clothes, splashing blood against a tree and making him hiss and wheeze in response to the pain.

You can still run, or you can stand and try to fight this thing, whatever the heII it is. Problem is, Gash is vulnerable and stupid, and coming back without him could cause some serious sh*t between you and Spigot. What do you do?

Breeze and Old Blood
Dreck spits on the ground. “What? Am I supposed to know the hunting schedule? So some slaver garbage came through here. Kill ‘em. They deserve it. This isn’t evidence, Blood. This is coincidence. I sold that knife, Blood. I guess I sold it to them, but I don’t know what they look like. Old slavers probably got a grudge, want to piss on my good times, yeah? Don’t fall for this, Blood. Come on! You’re a smarter guy than this!” Dreck is pleading with you again like a weakling.


You guys both have the same Sharp, so I’ll roll one Read a Sitch and one Read a Person. You guys decide who did which.

2d6+1 (Read a Sitch) 4,5,+1= 10
Ask 3 of the following:
• where’s my best escape route / way in / way past?
• which enemy is most vulnerable to me?
• which enemy is the biggest threat?
• what should I be on the lookout for?
• what’s my enemy’s true position?
• who’s in control here?

2d6+1 (Read a Person) 5,6+1=12
Ask 3 of the following:
• is your character telling the truth?
• what’s your character really feeling?
• what does your character intend to do?
• what does your character wish I’d do?
• how could I get your character to __?


Blender
Blender, you open your brain to the psychic maelstrom.

2d6+2 ---> 2,5,+2= 9
What you see:
Blender, you see a vast room. A one-eyed king wearing a jagged crown of rusted iron stares down at a grinning figure covered with chains. Behind the smiling personage stands an old tree that rustles in the wind. A fox sits in the branches. The ground beneath them becomes a red-hot cross, and flames lick at the air around them. As you watch, several black shapes move in the darkness, approaching with malicious hearts while the grinning figure sobs and laughs in equal measure, its emaciated face bursting into flames in the final moments of your vision.

What was the most despicable thing Blender has ever done?



When you exit the vision, you feel as if you’ve been standing in an oven, and you are nauseous. The baby is looking up at you, smiling and reaching to touch your chin.

Thunder rumbles lazily across the sky, and a shingle slides off the roof of the Chalet. You can smell rat and pork stew being cooked just up the road in a cast-iron kettle. Boot is whistling as he stirs the concoction, the melody low and depressing. The kettle is being heated over an open flame. You are back in reality. The rain carries on, unaware.

[spwack]

Blender starts humming Boot's song.

Isn't that the song Stella used to sing?

Her of the bright eyes and

bright hair and bright

eyes that went


squish.


Inside his backpack, the wave projector, sensing it's masters lack of anguish, began to spin. The eyeball went round, and round, and round. It knows that this is not the most despicable thing Blender has done, not by far. It knows how to keep secrets as well.

As always, coming back out of the maelstrom left useless answers and useless questions.

King.
Tree.
Fox.
Chains.
Fire.
Shadows. All either perfectly predictable or maddeningly pointless.

As the baby tickled his hairless, bulbous neck, three thoughts swept through him:
Is anyone else laughing? and
I can't let the tree burn and
My pain-wave projector better be able to tear the brains of those Shadows a new a**hole

He sighed. Without even having to open up to the maelstrom, he knew what was at stake. In order: almost definitely, he probably won't be able to, and the only way to prove such a hypothesis, would be to test it. He settles down on the bench near Boots cooking pot, eye on the chalet, baby in hand, and silently places a few coins within the leather-clad mans grasp. There's a storm coming Mr... Boots? Why the hell had he thought that? Must be psychic leakage. Either way, when it hit, he wanted a full stomach, post-linkage nausea or no post-linkage nausea.

[Gull]

"Calling me stupid, boy?" asked Old Blood.

He hunkered down to glare at Dreck with his good eye. "You think I would have you here, in front of all these people, my people, if I didn't already know what you done, if I wasn't sure of the evidence and sure of my right?" he roared.

"You think," he repeated, "that this is a trial?"

He stood up.

"You been given a second chance already, Dreck. You slaved, you sold men and women for profit. But you turned heart. You even brought some out. That was a good thing you did, and it saved your life when you turned up here.

"But now here you are, doing it again. You broke my trust, and you used up your second chance.

"This ain't no trial. What this is, boy, is a choice. Your choice."

Old Blood walked back to the brazier.

"A man is defined by his tools. Which tool you choose will define what kind of man you are. So here it is, Dreck."

He lifted the glowing brand with one hand, while the other went to his belt, and drew out his hatchet.

"The brand, or the axe?"

Old Blood stepped towards Dreck, where Wheeler and Arrow held him. "One sees you walking out of here if you man up and cooperate, tell us who's running this operation. You won't come back though, and if any of my men come across you, your life's forfeit. You know that. The other?"

He hefted his hatchet. He didn't have to say what that choice meant.

[Dudeons]

Lucas looks back and forth from the gun to the woman. The belt lying in the mud pissed him off, but a gentleman knows how to control his anger.

"I've seen plenty of murderers in my time, and any one of them would've pulled the trigger right now," Lucas says, "You don't want to shoot me, and I don't fancy being shot. What is it that's making you consider going against both of our desires?"

[ImNotTrevor]

Blender
Boot takes your jingle and scoops you a bowl of stew. It’s not bad. Could use some salt, but that’s hard to come by these days. One of the things you don’t think about going into short supply after society crumbles, but with no one mining salt anymore, well...even the largest salt reserves didn’t last much longer than a few decades. So now everything needs salt and doesn’t have it.

But meat and potatoes is enough to keep a body going, or in your case keep your body nice and fat. You can see Boot eyeing the baby, looking obviously confused.

“I didn’t know you had one o’ them...uh...infants, Blender. You settle down with a girl of your own without tellin’ us about it?”

Old Blood and Breeze

Dreck recoils from the objects like a mouse from a cat. Tears now stream down his face as he blubbers. “Alright, alright! I did it, Blood, I did it. But you gotta understand, I was scared. I didn’t wanna hurt nobody, Blood. I tried to only sell ‘em to people that looked like they’d take care of ‘em, ya know? I ain’t tryin’ to hurt nobody, least of all you, Old Blood. You been good to me, but then a couple of Mama’s boys drag me out of my house one night, all the way to the Town, and she tells me to start sellin’ again or else she’ll hurt Juke. Now, Juke ain’t my girl, ain’t never gonna be, but she’s a sweet girl. Don’t deserve bein’ cut up by Mama and her boys. An Mama tells me if I tell you then shes gonna have Boss Butcher send some Bagger Boys to take her. You know their type, Old Blood. Those were the guys you caught. They was keepin an eye on me. If they saw me talkin to you, they was gonna take Juke away I swear!” Dreck is practically prostrated now, his tears wetting the floor.

“I’m more helpful to ya unburned, Blood. They might not know about this yet. They might think you don’t know yet. I can get more information. All I know now is they’re takin slaves from up north and they’re sending ‘em out in caravans into the Unknown, nobody knows why. Send someone you trust with me. I’ll tell ‘em that your boy wants in on the racket, he can keep an eye on me while I get the info. I swear to you, Blood, I don’t want anybody to get hurt. And if I turn back on my word on this, you can brand my face, my body, cut off my arms and legs and then kill me.”

Lucas

Fizz becomes still. “You’re right. I don’t want to do this. And I’m not a murderer. But I have to do it, Lucas. I have to do it. It’s you or me, and while I think you’re a decent person, I’m gonna choose me.”

Lucas, this situation is getting away from you. You can see that she’s about 2 seconds away from pulling that trigger and you will be in for a world of hurt. You haven’t given her any sort of concrete assurance yet, so she’s still not going to do what you want.


You rolled a 9 on your Seduce/Manipulate. In that situation, you MUST give the person you are manipulating some kind of concrete (meaning tangible, real, and guaranteed) assurance before they’re going to do anything you want. You haven’t assured her, just told her what she already knows (she doesn’t want to shoot you, you don’t want to be shot. That much is pretty obvious.) and made another request, this time for information. I’ve thrown you a bone here and not had her just shoot you. Finding a way to assure her that she will be safe if she puts the gun down is up to you. If it doesn’t happen soon, she’s going to shoot you.

[Amaril]

Breeze narrows his eyes critically at Dreck. Much as he detests slavery and all who propagate its existence, he's never had much taste for Blood's branding tradition either, though he knows it's the best way to get done what it's meant to get done. Still, though... If he's been threatened...and he could lead us to the source...
Catching Blood's eye, he silently beckons the holder over. "I don't think I tipped the Bag Boys off that you were onto 'em, Blood," he mutters, keeping the conversation private. "They could still be a lead for us. I don't want to tell you how to do justice," he nods over his shoulder at the accused slaver, "but if he can get us to whoever's behind this, isn't it worth a shot at least?"

[spwack]

"Now then, dear Bootsie." says Blender "Can you see me settling down? Ever? I think not. However, the mother says it's mine. Said it was mine. She's dead, you see." Takes another slurp of salt-less soup. "Say Boots, any of your customers around here ever ask for salt in their stew? I'm sure a few of them would... kill... for something so fulsome and flavorful." Blender shakes his head, trying to get the alliterative bug out. Happens sometimes. "Now, be a pal and hold onto this for me, would you?" He motions to hand the bundle of rags and infant to the shopkeeper "If it is my son, he may have the power to crack this version of reality like an egg, so do be careful. I need to go see what is happening inside yonder courthouse, and haven't the time for squalling babies. There's a good chap."

[Gull]

Contrary to popular belief, Old Blood didn't get any kicks of branding folk. He wasn't the kind of man who like burning a fellow begging for his life. But he knew that he had to be hard for the Cross. He had to do things that stained the soul in order to protect those of the people he looked after. It wasn't enough for Old Blood that the Cross be alive. The Cross had to be right.

"Now we're gettin' somewhere, boy," said Old Blood. "This is where we shoulda been from the get go. Now, I'm gonna tell you what we're going to do. You ain't going back in with any of my boys, I don't trust you that far. But Arrow and Wheeler here, you know how they work. You're going to take them on a tour, and they're going to eyeball this operation on the sly, figure out what we're going to do about it.

"You're part of the Cross, Dreck, or at least, you were. You shoulda known you could come to me with this, not make me find out the way I did. I understand that you got put in a hard place by no fault of your own, but you didn't handle it square."

Old Blood knelt and took Dreck's face in his hand. "Dry them tears. I ain't gonna burn you, not today. All's I wanted was the truth. Now that you told me, I got bigger concerns than applying a cross to your skin. Now tell me, where's Juke at?"

While Dreck composes himself, Old Blood stands and walks over to Breeze, muttering quietly. "Lissen. If Mama's telling Boss Butcher where to send his Bagger Boys, then there's new bonds between the Town and the Lords. I don't like it. I'm gonna need you on this one, be my envoy to some of the other holds. We're going to have to start building alliances of our own, catch up. Who do you like for our first partner?"

That said, he gestured to Gentleman Jane. After she trotted up, Old Blood muttered in her ear: "See if you can rustle up that fat freak Blender. I got something I need a New Child for."

[ImNotTrevor]

Old Blood/Breeze
Dreck composed himself for a moment before responding. “Juke lives on the south edge of town. She put some windows in the back of a wrecked Semi trailer. Lives there with a couple other people. Bagger Boys set up a camp about a mile south of her place, ready to do their thing if they caught me talking to you.” Dreck wiped his hand with his sleeve and sniffled for a moment before standing up again.

Gentleman Jane nodded at Old Blood’s order, trotting out of the room to go find Blender. Luckily, she didn’t need to go far.

Blender
As Blender turns to go find himself a vantage point, he finds himself looking into the eyes of Gentleman Jane. She has her pistol in her hand, but hanging by her side. She is visibly displeased to be talking to you, and is clearly ready to shoot you if the need arises. But for now, she is not actively threatening you with bodily harm. Behind you, Boots is making weak attempts to argue with you about taking the baby.

Jane speaks up. “Old Blood wants to talk to you in the Chalet. Follow me, and don’t touch me.” She turns then, keeping an eye on you. She isn’t exactly what one would call beautiful. Her features and shape were somewhat manish, hence “Gentleman” Jane. Some people were pretty sure she was once a man, but no one had ever seen her disrobed sufficiently to be sure about it.

[spwack]

"Hello Jane. Lovely evening, don't you think?"

Blender moved his lips to reveal yellow, cracked teeth. At first glance, it might have been a smile. It wasn't a smile.

"I would ask what our lord and savior asks of this humble servant, but I have an aversion to being shot. Lead the way."

[Amaril]

Breeze gives Blood a subtle but definite nod. "If it'll help stop slavers, you can count on me." He furrows his brow in thought. "How about getting Little Sister on-side? I've still got friends with them. Give me some time, and I could probably get them ready to talk."

[Gull]

Old Blood clapped Breeze on the shoulder. "Get it done. The Town and the Iron Lords reaching out to one another's bad enough, but joint slaving? It's trouble for all the holds. No one wants a winter war. Could end us all.

"Make them understand, friend."

Old Blood turned as Blender entered the room with Gentleman Jane. Blender. Now there was someone to keep at arm's length. Blender had a rep. An ugly one, but then, he was an ugly man. Not that Old Blood was averse to dealing with ugly men- he saw one in his washbasin every morning. This was a world for ugly men now. Maybe it wouldn't always be, but for now, it belonged to men like Blender and Old Blood.

"Thanks for coming Blender, I appreciate it," said Old Blood, repeating the phrase for the second time today. He gestured for the man to come with him and have a seat. Arrow and Wheeler were still handling Dreck, who would be showing them the slaving arrangement the Town and the Lords had going soon enough.

"You're a man of talents, Blender," said Old Blood, sitting near the brazier where the brand had been replaced. It was warm, and besides, the glowing cross served as a good talisman of authority. "I could use your services. I got a few things need to be done that would be right up your alley. Some serious f*cking with people, the kind of thing I hear you like. What do you say, you feel like throwing in with the Cross for the season? It's getting cold, and even a New Child needs a hearth to warm him. You do some work for me, there's a place for you here." Long as you follow the rules, the brand added, silently.

Old Blood leaned forward, intentionally putting himself within Blender's reach. Sure, Gentleman Jane and Silence were there, watching carefully, but that was different. Jane and Silence were symbols of Blood's power, his ability to project force, break skulls and cut throats and put bullets into bellies. Putting himself within Blender's notorious reach was different. This was the hardholder of the Cross showing Blender that he was Old Blood, and this was his place of power.

[spwack]

Blender puts out his hand for Old Blood to shake, remarkably dainty, the thin wires glinting in the dim light. He completely ignores the vicious thugs to either side of him, focussing entirely on the hardholder.

"It is important we trust one another in these troubled times, don't you think my dear?"

[Amaril]

"That's what I do best," Breeze grins. Nodding politely to Old Blood, he turns to leave. He doesn't go out of his way to skirt around Blender as the two pass, but spares him only a cursory glance. Breeze prides himself on not judging people by their birth, but even though he's never seen the New Child abusing his powers with his own eyes, he can't help but be unnerved by the man.

As he heads down the hill from the Chalet, the skinner sets his mind towards his upcoming journey. The safest thing would be to take up with a crew, people from around here he could trust. And if anyone can point him to his acquaintances, it'll be Elly. With a smile at the prospect of a bite and a sip while he does his work, Breeze heads toward her place, Patch trotting obediently along at his heels. "Come on, boy," he beckons to the fox. "We're going to see Elly. Maybe she'll have something tasty for you." Patch yips excitedly and picks up his pace.

[Gull]

Old Blood smiled, just a bit, beneath his beard, and his one good eye twinkled.

"Trust is important, oh I agree. As is manners. And with that in mind, I shake hands, not gloves. Ain't no way for men to conduct business."

After all, Blood had no problem stepping into a cage with a coyote, but he knew not to put his throat in its jaws.

[spwack]

Blender continued looking Old Blood directly in the eye as he unwrapped the cables from his fingertips. Holding it up for the inspection of all, he clasped Old Bloods powerful maw with his own limp, cold hand.

"There we go," he muttered, re-attaching the cables "My honor is intact. Now. To business. You have two choices: keep me in the dark and point me at those you want to leave screaming in the dark, or let me know beforehand and I'll have time to... work on them. Beginning with him." He pointed one finger at Dreck. "Do you have any doubts about his loyalty? I have a possible solution in mind."

[Gull]

"Dreck'll do what he's told. I know who's been pulling his strings and how, and I aim to take the 'how' for myself. It's the 'who' that I'm concerned about, and that's why I got you here now."

Old Blood leaned back stretched his massive shoulders a moment. His back popped like a gunshot and then he leaned forward again.

"The Town and the Iron Lords are forming an alliance, and they're running slaves. They blackmailed Dreck here into selling them on the sly in my market here. You know slaves don't sit well with the Cross, but more than that, I got the Town and the Iron Lords together, and neither have ever been friends of mine.

"You know as well as anyone that it'll be winter soon, and I don't want a winter war, 'specially not one on two fronts. Something of that scale could be bad for all the River Holds. So, what I thought you might do, with your particular 'talents', is maybe put some cracks in that alliance. You got a way of making people do what you want, so I hear, and a mind that's powerful slippery. I'm sure you can figure out some creative ways to escalate some...friction between the Town and the Lords."

[spwack]

Blender is all business. "I'll need transport, a straight man, intel, one or two fast talkers, enough firepower in case things go wrong and a wet nurse. Of the Iron Lords and the Town, which would you prefer screwed over more?"

[Gull]

Old Blood shook his head. "The Cross' trucks are for fighter patrols, you drive off with one and everyone from Laval to Longueuil will know you're working for me. Out of the question. Can get you a bicycle in good-ish shape though, though. As for the rest, I can detail a couple men to ride with you, cycle runners, though I want them back in the same condition. Guns, we got." He stopped, and rubbed a big hand across his forehead, wearily. "And what in the hell do you need a wet nurse for, you weird bastard?"

[spwack]

"I have my reasons." says Blender with a completely straight face. "I'll go for the escort, but they are more than likely to get us all killed once we get within hailing distance of the Town. I need a smooth operator. Someone like..." he turns and points at Breeze. "Him. He'll do."

[Gull]

Old Blood looked over to where Blender was pointing and frowned. "Who? What are you looking at?"

[spwack]

"Wait, what?" Blender spins round, but neither hide nor hair of the man or his fox can be seen. "I could've sworn... Urgh, never mind. Just tell me where to go and I'll do my best to make a mess."

[Gull]

"The Iron Lords," said Old Blood. "The Town and the Cross been at each other for long as they've existed. I can handle the Town. But the Lords stepping in is a problem, and if you can make it so the Lords step back out then more the better for all of us. Now, I got another iron in fire, so t'speak."

Blood gestured Gentleman Jane over, and muttered in her ear. "Get five skullcrackers. We're going to get Juke."

[spwack]

"Well cheerio then my good fellow. And don't forget to find me that wet nurse. I'm sure Boots will have had quite enough by now." He heads off, whistling in an exceptionally untuneful fashion.

Outside the chalet, he stands with his hands in his pockets, a broad smile on his face, waiting for his ride. He has an unshakeable feeling that he is heading into a death trap, but he'll be damned if he doesn't go into it at a run.

[Gull]

going to be away from reliable internet for about a week, so my posting will be spotty, sorry