[Closed] Without a key

[25 Yaris 2718] Saunders' Forge: Gale locks themself out of their workplace and home

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Gale
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Thu Oct 11, 2018 4:55 am

Saunders' Forge | Mid-Afternoon
25 YARIS 2718
Gale tugged at her collar. The heat of the day had turned sticky, the harsh sun of Yaris beating down on them mercilessly. It was not to say Gale was unused to the concept of heat, the forge had ensured a strong level of resistance to temperatures – but this was simply uncomfortable. Enough so that the metal worker had abandoned their work across the heat of the day to engage in other activities. Today was largely people watching; adults hissing at children in annoyance, others draping themselves over surfaces in the shade – nothing particularly interesting caught her attention. But, getting out allowed the updating of information.

Drugs were still a problem. The Seventen were being more aggressive in their searching. Miss Daniels had a baby two days back. Grog was becoming popular in the heat. Rightsons and Co had an experimental batch of steel they needed people to test – Gale actively made a note of interest on that. And so forth. It also allowed her to go out and get a cheap pack of cigarettes, decanting them into her tin alongside her matches. The scent of smoke smothered her senses, fighting back against the growing putrid smell that grasped the soot district tightly. She doubted she smelt any better; dried sweat caked the back of their neck, a layer of grime covering her features and clothes. The forge was a merciless and demanding beast. But they enjoyed the work it gave.

Even if her mind wandered to other curiosities on occasion.

Blowing out a trail of smoke, the metalworker continued back towards the forge. Head down, shoulders hunched, a small swagger in every step, the bend making the human appear shorter than she actually was. This was not a time or place to raise her head, instead it was to keep the rough hands within her pockets and the scarf around the neck. Taps and barges as others passed her, eyes ever forward as they peered beneath her brow. The cigarette was pursed tightly between the lips, an inhale of smoke and the old, bitter taste resting on her pallet. Ahead now they saw the door of the forge, the shutters closed and still – just as it was left.

It was then as her hands rummaged in her pockets for the key that the problem surfaced. They searched, looking to grasp at something within as she stood before the forge door. Fumbling deeper, the tobacco tin came out, followed by some loose screws, some string and a hardened piece of wire barely four inches long. The dilemma however, was the lack of keys.

“Shit,” spat the metal smith.

Her hand scratched the back of her head, brow furrowed deeply. Did she drop her keys somewhere? Or leave them inside? Not that it mattered currently. She gave a testing turn of the door handle, a small inkling of hope that there was still a way out of the situation.

The door to the forge was locked.

Gale groaned loudly and gave it a frustrated kick.

Wincing at the discomfort that grew in her toes, the metalsmith moved away to test the various hatches. The first was given a testing pull, finding where the hinges were and rattling them. Hopeful perhaps, that she had left one of them unlocked, or not closed them properly. There was no joy on the first, and the second only complained at her. So, she returned her attention to the door. Pressing their shoulder up against it, she found a grasp upon the handle. It was all about angles, or something, tilting it right with the correct amount of pressure. She dug her heels in, furiously twisting and encouraging the door to give.

All that was needed now was for someone to question why a grubby looking boy was shoulder barging a locked door.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
word count: 646
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
Fellix Malanastre
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Thu Oct 11, 2018 12:09 pm

“Why is that grubby looking kid throwing himself against a locked door…”

Fellix Malanastre craned his neck to peer through the crusty haze of the Soot District where the stuttering motions of some street rat human had caught his eye. His patrol partner glanced up, but went back to searching the pockets of an aged human.

Drugs were still a problem, and Fellix and Lustra Sennali had been assigned to set up a checkpoint and rifle through pockets of passersby by, searching for contraband. It was a shite assignment, mostly due to the air quality and monotony. He and Lustra were posted up, flanked by their croves, on either side of the street. Two by two, humans were stopped, and searched. A basic Pull conversation was all that was needed to empty pockets; served the dual purpose of vexing the humans and allowing the Seventen to keep their hands clean.

“Who cares, just leave it. Next.” Lustra waved in another pair, uttered the words and this and that filtered up and out of pockets and bags. Nothing good. “Okay, go.”

“Clocking civ’s going to break his arm,” Fellix muttered.

“I says again, Fell, who cares?”

“Tick it, this is rotting my brain. I’m going to check it out.” Ensign Malanastre abandoned his line, leaving Lustra to take over for the while. He sauntered down the street towards the wee ruckus and rolled up his sleeves.

As he got closer, he realized the little civ had a cigarette in his mouth. Honestly.

Fellix closed the remaining space at a trot, and grabbed the kid’s shoulder. “Oi, moony, what’s in your head? Not exactly subtle, this method of breaking and entering. Let’s go.”

He had fully expected the kid to run, and that he’d give him a nice Push, and drag him in for a nice night in to calm down. But he wasn’t expecting that the kid wasn’t a kid.
word count: 327
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Gale
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Thu Oct 11, 2018 1:38 pm

Saunders' Forge | Mid-Afternoon
25 YARIS 2718
LPulling back when the door did not give, the metal worker gave a roll of the shoulder. It was ridiculous, and a laps of memory that was now being a nuisance. She would have to pay for it in good time, but at least she could live with the comfort that the original locksmith was good - a mental note was made to hire him again should repairs be necessary. Bracing against it, she eased into shoving once more, ear pressed in the hopes of hearing the lock. A groan, a grind, a little bit more, almost-

The hand made her jump.

A sharp twist and pivot on her heel, immediately her back was against the door. Eyes blinked, searching for the offender and rested upon the torso of the Seventen uniform. Another second, slower and drinking in the features. The cigarette had fallen somewhere, smouldering against the earth. Such a waste, but now was not the time for such concerns.

Uncle. Male. About my height. Maybe a bit smaller. Looks like a smug git.

"Breakin' and Enterin'?" the smith peered at him from beneath her brow. What was his aim, what was his motive, where had he come from? The gaze slipped past him briefly up the street to see the other member of the Seventen hovering there. Wonderful, just what she needed, "Neigh Sir. No breakin' and enterin' here. Least, not the illegal sort." She gave a small bow, eyes slipping down to his feet. She refused however to move from her position at the door - as far as she was concerned she had done nothing wrong, but understood exactly what it looked like. Her hand moved and pointed to the faded painted sign upon a strip of wall - Saunders' Forge - "See, I run the forge. Did a stupid, left my keys inside when I went out like the moony I am."

Play the idiot. Be the fool. Don't challenge him too much. Appear passive. More you work with him, the sooner he'll be gun.

Gale placed her hands in her pockets, "Sorry 'bout wastin' your time sir. But I need ta get in and back ta work. So if yous know if locksmith Mister Yener around, I'll be on my way." Her shoulders hunched in, "I don't want no trouble, sir. So there anythin' else I can help you with or can answer?"

Perhaps I left the top window open. Could always see about trying to climb in that way.
word count: 422
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
Fellix Malanastre
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Mon Oct 15, 2018 3:47 pm

She certainly was talking a lot and Fellix had no reason to believe it was anything other than slippery rubbish meant to play him up nicely. At least it was better than fumbling seduction, which he’d seen too many times. He stepped closer, supporting an elbow on his arm crost his chest, and let his field take up space.

Whoever she was, she had a quickness about her. She was dirty enough to have business in a forge, but that didn’t convince him of anything. It was the Soot District. There was Soot everywhere.

“Yea, you’re a blacksmith and I’m Queen Ester.” Fellix looked down on her with irritation. He took a quick glance back at Lustra at the checkpoint to returned him an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

“But that’s a real sad story, miss. Too bad I don’t care for stories. Can’t go two ticks without some human spinning me some sad story about why they’ve got their hand into some nice purse.”

Casual as get-out, he pulled his glove on tighter.

A bit more serious now, “so, like I said: let’s go. We’ll find a nice magistrate to tell your story to. See they love stories.”
word count: 210
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Gale
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Mon Oct 15, 2018 4:55 pm

Saunders' Forge | Mid-Afternoon
25 YARIS 2718
Or he could choose to not actually listen to a single thing she was saying. Pinching her brow she released a hum, working out the next move to make. Was he being stupid? Or just a typical Galdori? She presumed the latter incredibly quickly, even with the annoyed sarcastic tone that escaped. The shoulders continued to hunch in, the field being notably oppressive this day.

"You look lovely today, your majesty," she stared at the centre of his chest, "But very well boss. Sure, we'll go do it yer way. Come on, arrest and cuff me."

Pointless, all of it. He was just like all the others really. The hands turned and presented themselves before him, palms held upwards in waiting for whatever he was going to do next - she was not about to resist the cuffs should they come. For the moment however she would fill the head of the Seventen with information - perhaps too much at once, and instead take the tact of being overly helpful, "For yer record keepin', sir, my name is Gale Saunders, master metal worker of Saunders' Forge and have been for the last four years since inheritin' the title from the late Beckett Saunders. The buildin' itself is, as you have noted quite keenly sir, on Smollett Street in the Soot district." Clearing her throat she promptly continued, "My landlord and property owner is one Mister Leopold Aurelian, located in Uptown, at twenty-nine Quilian Avenue, just off Kingsway - or at least, his main office is. Sure you know it real well, Sir."

Typical.

There was little point in resisting. If the magistrate did indeed become involved she would just repeat what had already been said - keep the story true, keep it simple. Lying always ended up tripping people up and leaving a web to navigate. Following his lead there was the occasional odd look from the few other inhabitants of the street, a curious eyebrow or two raised. The end result was a collection of awkward shrugs and looks; more so when one of the mill worker came to a slowing stop.

Rolansons. Great. And seriously, what is with them wearing that bloody logo on their overalls like some badge? Do they really think that they're that great?

"Oi, boss sir, you mind if I take this?" her chin lifted to the worker, attention shifting regardless, "Hey, you know that delivery? Yeah can you-"
"Seriously Saunders, what the-?"
"Yeah, I know. Forget that. Locked myself out. So the Rolansons delivery, can you give me a couple more hours than planned? Or bring a crowbar - either or, I'm easy. Kind of busy."
"Wait, you're going in the slammer?"

The smith gave another shrug, "Dunno yet. Still, sorry to be a pain to yeh foreman."
word count: 471
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 9
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
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Writer: Iz
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Tue Oct 16, 2018 12:00 am

Fellix stared at the girl his expression slowly sliding from irritated to thinly hidden confusion until he landed on suspicion. She wanted to be arrested? Or make him think she did? This was new. Wait, was she flying? Would explain the yammering and dim notion to heave-ho in sight of a Seventen checkpoint.

He took a hard look at the man in the cart that had paused to talk with, well, Gale Saunders. Seeing as she was a wee windbag, ‘gale’ seemed an appropriate namesake. Neither she nor her supposed business associate seemed at all anything other than totally ordinary. And bang too calm.

“Yea, I do mind,” Fellix said. He took Gale Saunders but the shoulder and pressed her back against the door.

“Move along, civ. Check point.” He waved the cartman along. He kept Saunders pinned against the door and watched until the cartman laboriously complied. Once he’d moved on, Fellix leaned in.

“Right, Gale. What are you pulling? You uh,” he waved his other hand in a mock conversationality, “trying to get arrested as some sort of Resistance sabotage or are you just high?”

He bit back a smile. How lovely might it be to old nick a member of a resistance cell?
word count: 208
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Gale
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Tue Oct 16, 2018 8:50 am

Saunders' Forge | Mid-Afternoon
25 YARIS 2718
Gale let him. There was no point resisting. After all, it would only make the situation worse. It did not mean that she missed every growl, every slight – it slowly was tallied behind those green eyes. She would remember, and when the time came it would all fall into place. Until then, Gale became the patient creature they were – even as proof number one rolled away. There was no use in panicking, so why worry about it?

When the question came, the smith answered.

“Yes, Gale. Gale Saunders, master smith of Saunders Forge establishment. I’m not pullin’ anythin’. Though, you are pushin’ right on the stiff shoulder,” the orbs focused on the middle of his chest once more, “And far from wanting to get arrested. I am merely being a subject of Vienda’s laws and her processes, complyin’ with your wishes so this matter can be tended to in a suitable and orderly fashion.” There was a half shrug, “After all, why should I be resistin’? What would I gain from doin' so? Little point to it when it’s unnecessary to do so and would only cause more upset.”

Clearing her throat, she caught a glimmer of his badges – patrol division, unsurprising really that he was being so thick skulled yet seemed to revel in every moment of it. But Gale was a patient, self-discipline ruling the mind to prove that she was better than them. In reality, he could not have been much older than her; still wearing a young face. How new was he to the Seventen? Did it even matter?

Well, yes, because he held the righteous authority and had yet to become jaded with the whole ordeal.

And Gale took advantage of that, “So, I’m quite happy to be lead off to deal with this in the manner by the book. Maybe with luck, m’landlord will appear with a spare ‘nd I can get back to doin’ my job. I mean, after you get a well done for doin’ mighty fine sir.” The hands were still between them, relaxed and awaiting to be cuffed, “Mean, it’s a shame and all, standin’ around here while time is wastin’. After all, I want no trouble sir.”

The smith hummed, “Though, if you’re lookin’ for trouble – think your other Seventen might ‘ave just found some.”

A man gave an angry shout – frothing about not being able to prove anything. Gale could not really tell with the shrill, high pitched noise filled the street. The few pedestrians gave concerned look, staring as they tried to decide if they wanted to withdraw or not. The smith leaned back into the door, brow set into a line as the level of annoyance continued to grow. Typical, if it was not the prospect of being arrested then it had to be the maintaining of a clean shop while an investigation took over. Still, it was hard not to wince when the civilian decided to start throwing his weight around.

“So, your lead sir.”
word count: 514
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 9
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
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Tue Oct 16, 2018 9:57 am

“Shut your clocking nut. Shove your sir’” Fellix growled, and gave her another rough shove against the door, living her a bit higher by the shoulder, the mona giving him a wee boost. Did this human ever shut up?

“Not looking for an epic saga.” Humans never just blithely complied for the sake of civil obedience and preservation of taxpayer coin. She was most clearly up to something with her obfuscating and unnerving agreeableness.

He was about to search her, then call for back-up to search the forge, but a ruckus at the checkpoint and Lustra’s sharp voice caught his attention. A crowd of locals was beginning to congeal and a scuffle ensued. Fellix flashed an angry look at the human he had pinned against the door.

What, then? Was her beating against a door supposed to have been a diversion for something bigger?

“Clocking…” he swore to himself. He had to go back up his partner, but was not about to let this sooty civ off the hook. With a word or two of monite, Fellix tripped up the human’s feet to set her off balance, making it easy to heave her but the back of the collar with him.

He all but dragged her back, and Pushed through the growing throng. Lustra Sennali’s commanding voice was now easier to hear.

“Step back, wick. Turn around! Hands against the wall. I won’t tell you again,” she barked, backing up her order with her own Push. When she noticed Fellix, oh the look she gave him. Withering was a good word. He wouldn’t be surprised if she clocked him.

“You too, Saunders,” Fellix shoved her against the wall next to the snipping wick, who was on about right to privacy or some bash.

“Took needles off him,” Lustra said by way of updating Fellix. “Claims he’s a Healer.”

Eschewing the searching Pull they’d been using, he began to pat Saunders down, keeping a tight hold on her collar.
word count: 336
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Gale
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Tue Oct 16, 2018 10:37 am

Saunders' Forge | Mid-Afternoon
25 YARIS 2718
Gale chose not to fight back, instead only bracing against the unnecessary force that had been chosen to be used. Air was forced from her lungs, form bent double.

We need to be better than them.

Her jaw set into a line, grunting as brute force was used. There was the working shoulder again, a distinct sting of discomfort working its way up the shoulder blade. How many times in recent days had she had to deal with Galdori? Their over demanding nature, that her mere existence made her the villain.

We need to show we are better than them, not just in fighting.

Knees gave a buckle; the muscles stiffening as bruising came in. She did not struggle, but was not exactly helpful as the gap was closed. Forced away from their intended target, the smith simply did as they were told. Eased up, hands against the wall with a wince. The brow creased, lip curling in discomfort as she tried to keep some element of brave face.

We must show them that we will not lower ourselves to their level. That we know more than just rage. That we are learned, that we know and understand the sensitivities. That we are not animals or dirt to be trod on.

The smith wheezed, feeling the hands in her pockets. It was the same few things she went out with; tobacco tin, a piece of wire, string, some screws – hardly anything of interest. The screws were wrong for the door to begin with, far too small for the sitting. The string once used to bind a packet of cigarettes, a foot long at most. The wire was spring wire, uncoiled and now four inches of largely useless metal. A deep inhale, the eyes stared at the wall while she herself was silent.

We must be better, less ignorance damn us all.

Around the crowd watched, the murmuring noise picking up. Fear took them, rage hummed in the back of it. She could hear the growing swell, the two Seventen and the growing others. Where they just about to let them be crushed? Forced to their knees for doing their jobs. Her jaw ached, even as he began to finish – but she did not move. She did not need to.

“-Isn’t that Oli?”
“What are they doing-?”
“-What’s going on?”
“-Ma, why do they have Mister Saund-”
“-Hush sweetie-”
“Bloody Uncles. Thinking they can just-”
“Shouldn’t we… dunno, do something?”


Another, slow, careful inhale. The active mind slowed, the slow count in and out. Unlike the wick who seemed to be now panicking. There was another shout, some squeal of noise as a mother tried to calm a crying child. But the smith focused ever forward, the internal mantra repeating itself.

We must be better.
word count: 473
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 9
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Iz
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Tue Oct 16, 2018 11:50 am

Fellix shook his head. The little civ’s pockets were filled with naught but junk. At each draw upon finding her personals unremarkable, Fellix just dropped them on the cracked pavement. It didn’t escape him that these were convincingly the trappings of who the human said she was - someone with business at the forge - and wasn’t that convenient for her. Trouble was, there was nothing he could really justify holding her on, other than his suspicion that this was an elaborate ruse, part of some sabotage. Of course, depending on which commanding officer he approached, his suspicion could be good enough.

The wick next to her turned around and Fellix shoved him back again.

“Don’t move! You think she won’t knock your cob off,” he said referring to Lustra. The crowd was growing dangerously. The chroves, usually calm, were getting agitated, heads low and tails lashing. Lustra was trying to calm things down.

She amplified her voice. “This checkpoint is closed! Your orders are to disperse! If you do not, you’ll be taken into custody. Disperse now!”

Shit shit shit, this was escalating. Last thing they needed was for a simple checkpoint to go balls up. He gave Saunders a warning smack on the back of her head.

“Don’t you clocking move,” he ordered and then left her there against the wall and mounted his chrove who immediately animated beneath him, eager to respond to the growing threat. Uttering chats, Fellix began applying measured broad Pushes against the crowd, doing his best not to actually known anyone down. Injuries would only make this worse.

The crowd reacted with shouts of protest. The head of the mob became more dense with people as those in front were pushed into those behind them. But the back of the crowd was beginning to scatter, eroding.

Things seemed to be going fine until Lustra was hit in the shoulder by a small rock.
word count: 325
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