The How | All-day
46 Roalis 2720
It was not the turn of events Gale expected; a spattering of experiences and moments that quickly spun out of control. The dice, proverbial as they were, had been rolled and now they were left dealing with the results. The Smith never considered themself the ambitious sort, but that thought quickly sputtered and died the moment they took a hard look at themself in the mirror. They were ambitious; they just never realised it until right now with their careful study and invention of the Steel Horse, the plans for the Galdori sewers, and now upon the precarious point they balanced upon within the Resistance.
Jon Serro stepped down and passed the reigns to Gunner. For better, or worse, or for whatever grumblings Wisp was currently making - Gale now was in charge. Gunner may have held the appearance of competence, but Gale themself? Their thoughts were still turbulent, but beginning to settle. Someone had to step up, someone had to take control of the situation - and the others wanted nothing more than to drag war and hate onto the street. They could not afford to be rabid dogs, even if Wisp seemed to think otherwise.
A cool head was required. And perhaps a large dose of cunning and a little luck - something Gale was not sure they possessed, but then again they also never thought they held ambition. As Gunner, they sent out the orders needed to clear out the mess Alyssa made: Reach out to the families affected, tidy up the mess, slip in information to the press and print, and prepare for Galdori retaliation. It was a lot of moving parts against an unknown length of time, but it had to be done. Whether they would be fruitful only time would reveal the results.
While that was going on, Gunner was left to plan.
Deep in the How in some red-bricked dead-end tunnel with a single door in, the Gunsmith leaned over the table. A map of Vienda and its surrounding fields were spread out across the surface, illuminated by lantern light with tiny wooden tokens placed at the edges of the map. Their eyes were scanning, or more at least pretending to scan from beneath that metal mask. False confidence to appease any observers while the brain internalised the days that had passed.
The Prohibition was the current problem. They may have started the process of retaliation as Artful; but who knew Gunner and Artful were the same person? None, perhaps bar a select few with suspicion - but that did not concern them too much. Besides, there needed to be some kind of action beyond reaction, else the Wisp and her underlings would just make it worse.
The cold shape of Liberator hidden beneath their poncho, pressed against Gunner's armpit. Perhaps they should have just shot her and been done with it.
Gunner's gloved hands drummed against the table. It was too late now, they would just deal with her as necessary. Right now the Prohibition was a bigger problem. The eyes turned to the few stacks of paper at the edge of the table, before spreading them out across the map. A smattering of drafted paragraphs to slip between the broadsheets, quick notes of the current stock gathered and where it was hidden.
It was not enough; not with everything going on. They needed more. They needed to learn how to lead, and damned quickly too.
Shit.
Were they expecting too much too soon? Was this what it was like for Serro? Always wanting more but never having the means in doing so? Their eyes darted back across the map, contemplating where various sewer choke points were-
No. No. Yes. No?
-before their hand moved across the mask sockets.
Breathe. Slow down. Think.
Gunner inhaled, the breath collecting on the inside of their mask. It felt heavy against their features, slowly squeezing as they attempted to think against the sensation.
Need to... make sure medicine is in stock. Dried supplies safely stored...
They turned one of the sheets of paper over, quickly making notes with a pencil on the back.
Methods to purify water. Boil, filter... charcoal? Upgrade facilities and equipment.
The masked head tilted to one side.
Steel Horses
The eyes swept across the map, slower this time. It was all planning, all staying several steps ahead of everything.
Hand out points that can be held. Expect fallout. Defend. Work out what the likely points Galdori will strike at first. Warehouses perhaps? Lay traps.
Gunner lowered the pencil; was this what Jon did? Stay hidden away in some underground room and pass out orders while information came in? Planning what he could and could not do within the city and its confines? Or did he have advisors, people whispering in his ear?
That was something they were sorely lacking at present, they would need to do something about that sooner rather than later.
But it did not stop the thought of taking Vienda. That would be interesting in itself. Careful, measured warfare that snuck up on the Galdori and throttled them before they even knew it. No, that would take years. And straight-up blood in the street would make them nothing but terrorists. But they had already spent years getting to this point. Now it was the act of getting the wheels truly in motion.
"Is this... even right?"
Jon Serro stepped down and passed the reigns to Gunner. For better, or worse, or for whatever grumblings Wisp was currently making - Gale now was in charge. Gunner may have held the appearance of competence, but Gale themself? Their thoughts were still turbulent, but beginning to settle. Someone had to step up, someone had to take control of the situation - and the others wanted nothing more than to drag war and hate onto the street. They could not afford to be rabid dogs, even if Wisp seemed to think otherwise.
A cool head was required. And perhaps a large dose of cunning and a little luck - something Gale was not sure they possessed, but then again they also never thought they held ambition. As Gunner, they sent out the orders needed to clear out the mess Alyssa made: Reach out to the families affected, tidy up the mess, slip in information to the press and print, and prepare for Galdori retaliation. It was a lot of moving parts against an unknown length of time, but it had to be done. Whether they would be fruitful only time would reveal the results.
While that was going on, Gunner was left to plan.
Deep in the How in some red-bricked dead-end tunnel with a single door in, the Gunsmith leaned over the table. A map of Vienda and its surrounding fields were spread out across the surface, illuminated by lantern light with tiny wooden tokens placed at the edges of the map. Their eyes were scanning, or more at least pretending to scan from beneath that metal mask. False confidence to appease any observers while the brain internalised the days that had passed.
The Prohibition was the current problem. They may have started the process of retaliation as Artful; but who knew Gunner and Artful were the same person? None, perhaps bar a select few with suspicion - but that did not concern them too much. Besides, there needed to be some kind of action beyond reaction, else the Wisp and her underlings would just make it worse.
The cold shape of Liberator hidden beneath their poncho, pressed against Gunner's armpit. Perhaps they should have just shot her and been done with it.
Gunner's gloved hands drummed against the table. It was too late now, they would just deal with her as necessary. Right now the Prohibition was a bigger problem. The eyes turned to the few stacks of paper at the edge of the table, before spreading them out across the map. A smattering of drafted paragraphs to slip between the broadsheets, quick notes of the current stock gathered and where it was hidden.
It was not enough; not with everything going on. They needed more. They needed to learn how to lead, and damned quickly too.
Shit.
Were they expecting too much too soon? Was this what it was like for Serro? Always wanting more but never having the means in doing so? Their eyes darted back across the map, contemplating where various sewer choke points were-
No. No. Yes. No?
-before their hand moved across the mask sockets.
Breathe. Slow down. Think.
Gunner inhaled, the breath collecting on the inside of their mask. It felt heavy against their features, slowly squeezing as they attempted to think against the sensation.
Need to... make sure medicine is in stock. Dried supplies safely stored...
They turned one of the sheets of paper over, quickly making notes with a pencil on the back.
Methods to purify water. Boil, filter... charcoal? Upgrade facilities and equipment.
The masked head tilted to one side.
Steel Horses
The eyes swept across the map, slower this time. It was all planning, all staying several steps ahead of everything.
Hand out points that can be held. Expect fallout. Defend. Work out what the likely points Galdori will strike at first. Warehouses perhaps? Lay traps.
Gunner lowered the pencil; was this what Jon did? Stay hidden away in some underground room and pass out orders while information came in? Planning what he could and could not do within the city and its confines? Or did he have advisors, people whispering in his ear?
That was something they were sorely lacking at present, they would need to do something about that sooner rather than later.
But it did not stop the thought of taking Vienda. That would be interesting in itself. Careful, measured warfare that snuck up on the Galdori and throttled them before they even knew it. No, that would take years. And straight-up blood in the street would make them nothing but terrorists. But they had already spent years getting to this point. Now it was the act of getting the wheels truly in motion.
"Is this... even right?"
