[Main Chapter] Haven, Must Be There

Resistance meeting, for those In the Know...

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Fri Aug 10, 2018 8:45 am

Haven, Must Be There
23rd Roalis, 2718 | The Book and Bell

Farewell to old Anaxas forever,
Farewell to my rum culls as well!
Farewell to the well known Old Rose,
Where I used for to cut such a swell.

Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
Singing Tooral liooral lee!
Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
And we're bound for the Hoxian Sea.


Deep in the heart of Vienda, beyond the Kingsway Market and the Aeterna Theatre, beyond Crosstown Court and the stately Zoological Gardens, nestled in the arms of The Dives was a modest nondescript tavern. It was no different from any other tavern, in another other street, in any other city slum. The building was made of wood, shrouded in the press of taller metal and stone buildings either side as though themselves the oppressive shadow of two galdori frowning over a cowering human. Over its doorway hung a swinging wooden sign painted with an open book under a ringing bell. Scripted beneath the graphic was the name of the little establishment.

The Book and Bell.

From the shuttered front windows, warm firelight glowed around the cracks in the woodwork, beckoning the work weary folk from the Soot District factories or the various shops in the city common. As one walked towards the beacon of hope in the otherwise dreary dark of the capital, they would hear the sound of loud and companionable singing, bolstered no doubt by plenty of cheap ale. A sea shanty, this eve, slipped from the B&B to roll gently out into the humid evening air of the Dives, calling to the curious and the knowing. For those who were In the Know, knew that Solid Stu would never interrupt Hoxian Sea in the evening whilst the firelight beckoned under the shutters of the windows.

Jon Serro himself had to signal his followers after all.


There's the captain as is our commander,
There's the bosun and all the ship's crew!
There's the first and the second class passengers,
Knows what we bilge rats go through.

Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
Singing Tooral liooral lee!
Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
And we're bound for the Hoxian Sea.


“S’th’ house roast garmon an’ taters with gravy for th’ kov with the mung mustache, ye chen?!” A small slip of a girl bellowed at the top of her lungs, platter balanced at shoulder height in one hand and a piece of paper to read in the other. Her bright green eyes scanned the rauckus crowd, before settling on a study man with a ridiculously long and curly grey mustache waiving his arm so hard it seemed like it would fall clean off. Nodding her chin at the man, the young ginger haired witch weaved through the patrons, cursing loudly and shoving people with her elbow if they threatened to run into her. Dropping the platter down on the table with a slow chew on a cud of tobacco leaf, the teenager scowled at the human man.

“Ten shills natta.” She said firmly, holding one hand out for the coin, the other on her hip and foot tapping impatiently. The round fellow reached into his pocket, fishing out a handful of coppers before counting ten and dropping them in her palm with a smile. Looking at them with a raised eyebrow, the waitress sniffed, and the mans smile faltered as he counted out another two coins. She checked again, before beaming at the patron and spinning on her heel to make her way back to the bar.

“Now Ginny, that wasn’t nice of you. Got a business to run, you know?” Rum Ginny, in her freckled tanned glory, offered Stu a wink before leaning back on the bar with both elbows and scanning the patrons.

“Only for the dobbies an’th’ easy lifts balach. Broen ent a dobbie, he’s well-lit see. A fair rum gunner too from what I hear. He can handle a little spitch that one. ‘sides, f’I piss th’dobbies off they’ll leave an’ we can get on with things.” The dark haired barkeep frowned at the girl, his large nose slightly crooked where it had broken and healed maybe more than once, blue eyes looking at her for a moment before focusing back on wiping down the bar.

“Don’t swear missy, it’s not appropriate for a girl to be swearin’ like a sailor.” Ginny poked her tongue at him, before pouting like a belligerent child. Whilst in no way related, the two knew each other for more years than either could remember, Solid Stu and Rum Ginny always together. He was eighteen years her senior, old enough to be her father. If she had an actual father, the young witch had never mentioned him and Stu had never asked. They were chalk and cheese, but they were a package deal. If you got the Ginger, you also got the Bull.

“Ye think that’s all of them Stu? Serro said midnight, its nearly thirty minutes to the hour. Should we stop them singing?” Her green eyes drifted to the gentleman who had positioned themselves so strategically beside the doorway, where their voices wafted the most each time a newcomer would open the door, seemingly a band of drunk sailors regaling the tavern with a song of the sea. Those in the Know knew though, that not a single one of those men were drunk, not by a longshot.

“Not yet girl, not yet.”


Taint leaving old Anaxas we cares about,
Taint cos we mis-spells what we knows!
But because all we light fingered gentry,
Hops around with a log on our toes.

These seven long years I've been serving now,
And seven long more have to stay!
All for bashing a bloke down our alley,
And taking his ticker away.

Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
Singing Tooral liooral lee!
Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,
And we're bound for the Hoxian Sea.


As the minutes ticked slowly over, patrons would one by one approach the bar with no suspicious rhyme or reason, and seemingly disappear. Gradually, the tavern got less busy and more empty, as though people had left. Yet none departed from the unremarkable front door. As the time reached fifteen minutes to the hour, the only souls left were the drunken singers and a few well placed patrons sipping drink or picking at meals.

Plants, for those in the Know.


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Gale
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Sat Aug 11, 2018 5:21 pm

in the know | very late
23 ROALIS 2718
It was late. Very late. And the Metal Smith of Saunders forge was at work.

There was a chiming clank as hammer met anvil, the grunt and complaint of metal. The head came racing down with every blow, the grip tightening, twisting and affirming itself on the shaft. With every strike it found a rhythm, a steady beat that met the once quiet chorus of noise. The heat continued to swelter, the exposed skin smeared and darkened by the smelter. Yet ever did the hammer continue to strike, and work the metal beneath it. It hissed as the piece was quenched in the brackish water, steam escaping as the salt and cold forced it to take a permanent shape. She took pause then, inspecting the strip of metal that held the loose shape of a cleaving knife and its handle. Still warm, the fingers brushed the edge as she mapped the processes she still had to perform. The edge needed to be worked, shaped and grounded readying it for sharpening; but that would be a task for another day.

The song picked up into chorus once more, the song growing louder. Her own throat released a hum along, hammer being racked while the cleaver was placed upon the work bench. The embers were growing cold now, the memory of the low voice of her father ringing out with every beat of the metal, every pump of the bellows, and every moment that they quietly worked upon their secret art.

"Singing Tooral liooral liaddity."
The hammer came down, the low voice a rumble. He scratched at his beard while another shadow moved into the doorway. Another, different voice responded in call:
"And we're bound for the Hoxian Sea."

Gale closed her eyes, letting the feeling run through her. The hands packed down for the evening, putting the tools away and gathering her senses. The coat came next, the heavy keys felt as she lowered the shutters and locked them, the low lantern light dimmed to a single, tiny flame - giving her enough light to get in once the darkness of night came. She picked up her coat, tugging it around her form; the scruffy 'boy' further refined upon her frame. There was a small pause over her toolbox, her arm giving a small complaining ache, before she pulled the strap of it over and across. It would not hurt, it was always good to be prepared. With the last of the forge secured, Gale left the establishment as secure as she could. Her heel pivoted and turned down the street, making pace as she followed the sound of the song.

They were calling; and so she answered.

It was Artful who entered the Bell and Book, sliding quickly around the side of the bar. She took to the song as well, knowing the words from her youth. A small nudge to others, she mingled all briefly, breaking line of sight with any observers who may have followed. She gave only a nod to Stu, grabbing a drink as she let the time continue on by. Blending in, she gave only a small saddle up to the bar itself. She was buying her time, counting the faces and weighing up the numbers - until it was her time.

She disappeared with the rest of them to where she knew she needed to be.

Now, what does he want to summon us?
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Kessler Tinkersmith
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Sat Aug 11, 2018 7:12 pm

In the Know, Roalis 23, 2718
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The door to the Crescent Clockwerks chimed, a tiny bell hanging from it’s top quivering as it knocked against the doorframe. Kessler stood by, having ushered a last minute customer out once their business was concluded. With a quick motion he locked the door, unlocked it, then locked it again. He glanced outside, curiously checking the occupants of the street. As the golden eyes scanned the passersby, they stopped suddenly, focusing on a small scarf fluttering from a streetlamp across the way. Red, with a blue border. Interesting.

The Resistance had many methods for communicating. Sometimes they met in person to exchange information, sometimes a letter was dropped off. Kessler, who spend most of his time in Uptown, usually relied on dead drops. A rabbit would tie a scarf around the lamppost across the street, the color of which determined where the rabbit would be leaving the missive. Over the years Kessler had learned to identify who the rabbit was by the scarf and where they liked to make the drop. Red and blue though, that was no rabbit. The cell leaders used those colors as a summoning. A meeting, tonight. How like them.

Kessler moved through his closing ritual with a little extra haste. He checked the sign clock, and each of the display clocks in turn. These pieces were never in need of too much work though, as he was obsessive about their maintenance. Still, timeliness was next to godliness, and just checking was a small honor to Alioe. The clocksmith worked diligently, going over every gear and spring, checking for weaknesses or defects. When he finally finished the last piece, the assassin checked the time, 2 hours. Perfect time to leave.

Closing the blinds on the front of the store, he stepped upstairs and slid the large chest out from beneath his bed. Opening it he took a moment to look over the shadowy garments. With a measured pace, he slid on the dark pants and boots. They weren’t completely black, more of a mottled black and grey. This added in obscuring his form in the shadows. Next he slipped on the dark linen shirt, along with the hooded doublet. Shaking out the large duster, he admired it for a second, the purple embroidery on the black cloth shimmered subtley in the candle light. It depicted the many phases of the moon, each honoring Alioe in its own way. He threw that on as well, and tied a black scarf around his neck.

A dark figure slipped out of the back of Crescent Clockwerks, crouched, silent. It paused to survey the alley, turned and quietly locked, unlocked, then locked the back door. Turning the corner of the building he stalked towards the street, his stance going from crouched and secretive, to upright and confident. Valor stepped onto the street, Phosphor lighting falling on his dark form.

The assassin made his way towards the Dives, trying to move as quickly as possible. He was well versed in traveling the back alleys of the city, but he hadn’t allowed himself enough time for that, and so was forced to take the main streets. Luckily it seemed the Seventen were preoccupied tonight, and the assassin so none on his route. In the end, Valor arrived at the Book and Bell tavern an hour before midnight. He entered the establishment, glanced at the gathered patrons, and found a seat against a wall.

For the next hour Valor watched, and waited. His pocketwatch sat on the table, and a few minutes after he arrived a glass of pumble juice was delivered where no words were exchanged. As he sat, the assassin observed the faces, particularly the ones that went up to order a drink, and never sat back down. He recognized some of them, but there were new faces as well. Serro would be happy to see how his movement was growing. Valor wondered if he’d show up in person tonight. The wick had first met the leader of the Resistance when he was being reassigned to Vienda, and after that had only crossed paths with the man a handful of times. If he did make an appearance tonight, that meant something big was brewing for the Resistance.

The time drew ever near, and the assassin once more checked his watch. Those singing by the door reached a blaring crescendo, just as Valor drained the dregs from his mug. Stepping from his table, he snatched up his watch and slipped it back into his pocket. He took his empty mug to the side of the bar placing it upside down on the countertop. With a nod to Stu, the assassin, like so many others tonight, disappeared.
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Tue Aug 21, 2018 8:57 pm

Have, Must Be There
23rd Roalis, 2718 | The Book and Bell

Stu nodded to the youth that approached the bar, cleaning the same glass he’d been cleaning since the evening began, his eyes wandering the room.

“Evenin’ Art, assume your lookin’ for a cool drink of water. Here, why don’t you follow Ginny and she’ll show you the way.” The red haired witch looked at Gale with a wide grin and a wink, before beckoning him to come with her around the bar and through the store room door. Looking to be sure they’d not been followed, the teenager grabbed one of the smaller kegs and followed her fingers around, a soft click sounding suddenly and the top of the keg rotating slightly left then right, then left again. From the back of the room, Gale would hear a gentle mechanical pop, before Ginny moved away from the keg to what appeared to be a stack of crates. Her small fingers curled around the front, and quite suddenly a door swung open, leading down into the bowels of the city. Darkness greeted the smith, beckoning her with an ominous grace. A small white painted lantern hung on the wall, almost unlit it was so dim. As Gale’s eyes adjusted, she would see more leading into the tunnel.

“Hold just a sec Arty. The boss man’s almost ‘bout t’start, ye chen? We gotta follow th’white lanterns t’night, not th’red ones. Red will just get ye lost.” She winked, before turning to see if anyone else was coming. From the bar, Stu simply nodded at the assassin, a subtle flick of his fingers to imply the man should head out back. As he appeared, Ginny would grin widely at the man.

“Valor! The Wisp is going t’be so clocking happy t’see ye kov. She’s been askin’, sayin’ something’s comin’. Reckon she’s got a job f’ye.” She waved the man into the mouth of the tunnel, before dashing back to the front and nodding to Stu.

“That’s it then.” The Bull muttered to himself, moving across the room to survey the last of the patrons. Watchers, all of them. Reaching for the door, he pulled a set of keys to lock it tightly, whilst Ginny quickly extinguished the lights. No more did the glow hum from under the windows, and the singing sailors hushed their tune. Moving together, the Bull and the Ginger went back to the doorway, stepping inside. Ginny’s lithe fingers pulled on the false door, shutting it with a sound clunk, somewhere inside the wall gears turned to lock it solidly in place. She glanced at Artful and Valor with a wide grin.

“Come on, let’s dust!” Stu would lead them then, walking the group through the tunnel. It was lit with white lanterns, right until the fork in the road. A left and a right, red lanterns and white. Without missing a beat, the dark haired man took the white path, deeper and deeper into the ground. The tunnels were old, older than Stu knew. A reminant of the War of the Book, long since lost to the pages of history. Galdori, wick and human alike had used the tunnels to steal in and out of Vienda during the worst of times, back when the world was still young. According to Stu, there were many many different paths, not all of them entirely mapped out. There were catacombs that led all the way to Brunnhold, and even beyond Anaxas was the rumour, though that was physically impossible.

Surely.

Regardless, those who had tried to find out had never come back, so the tunnels yet to be regarded as safe were closed, unmarked by the Resistance. To take an unmarked tunnel was to become hopelessly lost at your own risk.

Eventually the winding, never ending trail of white lanterns would lead to another door, this one simple and of wood. Ginny knocked, twice and twice and three times. Above her head, a small porthole slid open, two beady blue eyes staring at them with cautious judgement.

“Oh had I the wings of a whice, I'd soar on my pinions so high.” A gruff male voice said, muffled through the solid wooden door and not at all in a singsong tone. The barkeep leaned closer, his voice low.

“Slap bang to the arms of my Aloise, and in her sweet presence I'd die.” Stu recited the second half of the stanza, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his beige apron. The blue eyes disappeared with a snap of the portal shutting, and after what seemed like an excessive number of unlocking sounds, the door opened to allow the Freedom Fighters entry.

Once inside, the group would find themselves inside a large underground room, with a high arched ceiling made of bricks from yesteryear, their slightly mossy faces holding years of stories. There was a large hole on one wall, blown out by something explosive and forceful. It was here that two figures stood before a vast crowd of people, shoulder to shoulder and at least a hundred strong. The first figure, a tall man in a Anaxas Armed Forces cap and an eye patch, spoke quietly to the alluringly beautiful dark haired woman beside him.

“The Boss and the Wisp. Serro and Alyssa. Ye two, come on now, ent gonna sit at the back like some civvie.” Rum Ginny whispered to the smith and the assassin, guiding them through the crowd with a few cuss words and a lot of shouldering, till they were comfortably stood in the front row.

From the hole in the wall, the man held his hand up to silence the room, waiting to speak.

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Gale
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Wed Aug 22, 2018 5:47 am

in the know | very late
23 ROALIS 2718
Artful followed for the moment, vision shifting and moving around the back – watching for any eyes that should not have strayed too close. The whirling noise was a familiar one, a small comfort as the entrance was revealed. A small nod, if it was not for Ginny stopping her she would have continued downwards into the gloom. She paused at the mouth of the tunnel, cheeks puffing, “Oes Boemo.”

Waiting proved worthwhile, the outline of Valor came into view. She regarded him briefly, her mind thinking before giving him a short polite nod. There was no need for words currently. The lights went out, the site secured, and the way was opened before them. She followed when the rest of them filed in, remembering the words of the Witch – follow the white, red will only get you lost.

She still watched the other tunnels however as they walked, a squint at the stonework that held the world above them aloft. Her fingers paused briefly, touching the cooler, almost damp surface; an inspection of the surface, it was too dark for her to make out any distinctive details. She shifted, pulling the strap of her toolbox closer before following them along the white path. How long had it been since she last took to the tunnels? A while, but the route was always different, the final location never the same. She stopped to look down one of the tunnels, eyes squinting past the red lights, before she quickened her pace, “Some water this is. This is old.”

When they finally reached the door, she allowed Stu to do his thing before they were ushered in side. Of course, she listened closely enough to hear the words and held onto them for the moment. They would change soon enough; they would become old information that should not be relied on. Her hands jammed into the pockets of her coat, shoulders hunching in and head going down. The amount of people made her wary, who else was in here with them? Who was going to be a problem? Who do I need to stay clear of?

Her attention was snatched firstly by the two figures at the hole; she recognized the Boss, though part of her writhed to see him in the uniform, though her interactions with him in recent years had been largely non-existent. She did not need to interact with him; she was a Maker, the quiet Artful and smith. But she was also Gunner, and he knew that and the position she had taken over upon her father’s death. The other she had only heard about in name, the Wisp, but she had delivered missives for that network to Valor and his ilk over the years.

Artful frowned, attention turning to the hole now. It was easily four if not more strides across; her mind quietly calculated the amount of explosive that would be needed. It would depend entirely on how it was packed in and set up. A small amount of gunpowder at points could blast a big enough hole - but this appeared at first glance to be more central.

Begrudgingly, she followed Ginny to the front. She did not fancy the idea of being in immediate view, but did not argue. Effectively put into position, Artful felt her shoulders brush against another. She kept her mouth shut however, ears keen and listening intently for the words that were to come.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Mon Sep 10, 2018 8:33 am

Have, Must Be There
23rd Roalis, 2718 | The Book and Bell

Ginny, who had been watching the close whispered exchange between Serro and Alyssa with one eye, frowned and cast a wordless glance first at Gale, then at Stu.

“Ent like them t’whisper like that. Ent like them at all.” She said softly, before fading off as she watched their leader raise his hand to silence them all. A wave of quiet swept over the gathering of bodies in the deep underground hideout.

When Serro spoke, it was in a booming voice that filled the entire How.

"My brothers and sisters," he said, his stony expression showing fierce pride and a little affection. "Thank you for coming."

Off to the side, Alyssa watched him slyly, toying slightly with the pommel of a dagger tucked amidst the folds of her skirts. Without letting his gaze drift from the crowd, Serro continued.

“I know it’s been hard lately, for everyone. The presence of the Seventen has increased lately, drawn by the increase of Drake’s Tongue in the city. They aren’t sated with their arrests or their findings though, because we know what comes with them. The cruel and abhorrent crush of their booted heels on the backs of those they see as less than them.” His lip curled for a moment, spitting for good measure.

“We’ve good men and women being arrested, mothers and sons being upheaved from their homes, for suspicious activities based on what proof? Nothing. Nothing except existing. We breathe the same air and bleed the same blood, yet these erses continue to treat us like the dirt under their feet. They even imprison their own kind and force them into labour. For what? All this for what?” A couple of sharp cries of agreement punctuated the air, and some responses to his question. Serro looked across the front row, pointing at Gale suddenly.

“I’ll tell you for what. Because we don’t have the mona crawling through our veins, or whispering in our minds. Because we are magicless.” There were some murmured nods and agreements to this; Alyssa could be heard to say "Exactly," under her breath.

"But we are soldiers, my friends, and we must be always strong, never weakened. Magicless does not mean helpless!” His voice soared suddenly, almost shouting with a passionate cry, eye sweeping the crowd.

“The thirty fifth of Yaris, I’m sure you’ve seen the posters. A circus, a hullabaloo of epic proportions. Magic where magic does not exist. Even though it’s the oddity of wicks, our fellows in the know hear it that any golly wanting to keep up with their neighbour will be at that damn circus. Think of it, think of the gathering of those bastards under the one pavilion. A once in a who knows possibility to send a message to the galdori. To show them we are not the snivelling dogs starving at the gate, but the wolves howling at their doors. We must not turn our noses at the opportunity the gods have given us.” His hand clenched in a fist, and he took a moment to calm himself.

“The public need to know who we are, who the Resistance is. They need to know what we can do, and that we’re here to protect them. Shall we shrink back into the shadows? Shall we allow the galdori to continue to walk on the bones of our parents and grandparents, to pave their way with gold?”

The crowd in the How responded with a loud, resounding "NO!"; the thundering filled the cave with an emotional swell of sound. Serro‘s jaw twitched, and his normally passive face was alive with passion; his beetle-black eye sparkled in the light of the blazing torches that lit the room.

“We need a team, a group of people who can get in and out of anywhere without being detected. People who aren’t afraid to fight, and possibly die, for the cause. People, who are ready to stand up and make a difference. People who can help, in any way, whether it’s on the battle field or behind the scenes. We need to show them that we are not afraid of them anymore.” He nodded, as though to himself, and swept his hand over the room.

“Who of you, are ready to show the galdori that magic does not make them Gods?”

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Gale
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Mon Sep 10, 2018 10:11 am

in the know | very late
23 ROALIS 2718
“What do you mean?” Artful’s expression darkened. She did not know the pair well enough to establish an understanding of their behaviours, the tiny intricacies and machinations that went on within those skulls. But she did know the look Ginny gave that momentary blip in the surface – fear, worry, anticipation? A flinch when his voice boomed, the eyes swivelled forward as his speech grew. Within the crowd she could feel the energy grow, the stilled faces looking on at awe. Anyone could have said those words, but Serro held a particular charisma that stirred the hearts of simple folk. It was a thrumming energy that struck the chord of many, a song that matched their own cravings in the most basic of forms. The Galdori ruled with a heavy boot where very few benefitted from it.

The point caused her heart to slam into her throat. A momentary squeezing feeling that looked to suffocate; her mind searched for meaning, the body resisting hunching in further. It took effort to keep herself there, the hands that usually fiddled and twitched growing still. She froze in place, his words continuing to roar around the How, the siblings in arms growing and clinging to everything he said. Air was sucked into her lungs, hand forced into movement – a mere tap to the side towards Ginny. Slack fingers touched something, she did not register what.

Serro may have stirred and swayed the hearts of simple folk with his colourful words; but it was the words of Beckett, her father, that then whispered in.
“Trust nothing. Question everything. For the prettiest words hold the darkest of secrets and lure many down into a path of treachery, even those with good intentions. And the higher they stand, the more you must search.”
Her eyes drew down into narrows, a forced inhale as the point withdrew. The eyes hardened, cold in comparison to the fire that ignited the hearts of the people.

First question. What is his goal? Not in the long term, but in regards to this circus. Second, how is he going to achieve it? Fight? Does he ask of people to fight with him or for him? Will he be taking to the field too, or somewhere safe and far away? What is his plan?

She repeated the words in her head then, before giving a small snort to herself.

Gods. Multiple.

That final gesture moved across the room, she expected the crowd to be clambering for position. Her gaze slid to Stu, then to Ginny, before settling back on Serro. Was this part of the plan all along? Was she put here in this very position to answer this calling? Something planned from the very start? No, neither of them was that sly.

Artful filled her lungs, letting the air come in. It settled, her fingers twitching so they tapped against her thumb one at a time. Back and forth, her shoulders relaxed, another deep inhale as she gathered her thoughts. How long had she worked behind the scenes for them? This should not be any different. Gaze still cold, she focused intently on Serro.

Make sure to question him stupid if you can. No going in blind.

Her foot was forced forwards, a single stride that pulled her away from the front. She cleared her throat, “Alright Boss, I’ll bite. What’s the plan?” Her lip gave a curl, an attempt to swallow the nerves that were festering within, “How can Artful help you this time?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Sat Oct 06, 2018 6:41 pm

Have, Must Be There
23rd Roalis, 2718 | The Book and Bell

Stu made a sound under his breath, arms crossed and dark eyes sweeping the crowd, before falling on Ginny and Gale. He leaned slightly in, speaking in a soft voice, as around them the cheers fell into murmured discussion. People wanted action, but no one wanted to be the first to speak.

“This ain’t our place to speak, not when he’s like this. Serro‘s feelings on the gollies can be...skewed. He was in the Anaxas Armed Forces you know? Human fodder for the galdori army. He—“ His dark eyes widened slightly as Gale suddenly stepped forward, the young red haired with all but gaping at the smith as she cleared her throat and spoke. The murmur of the crowd fell quiet as Gale spoke words others may have been too afraid to ask.

Serro’s eye landed on the blonde with a slow, proud smile. He moved, jumping down from the Hole-In-The-Wall and pushing his way towards Gale. From the wall, Alyssa watched coolly, her fingertips delicately on the blade hidden so well in her skirts. As the tall human reached the clever artisan, he reached out and grasped her shoulder, turning around to look at the crowd.

“A single voice, amongst the many. Take heart my friends, we must be bold if we want to change our stars.” Turning back to Gale, the one-eyed man squeezed her shoulder.

“Artful. You’re so like your father, my boy. So ready to stand up for the cause, for our futures. How can you help me.” He gestured for Gale to follow him, taking the blonde back up to stand on the hole with himself and Alyssa, much to Stu and Ginny’s clear wide eyed shock. Holding Gale’s shoulder, Serro looked at the people, his other hand drawing into a fist.

“We have heard rumours that the Seventen are planning something on Dorhaven. No one is entirely sure yet, but we’ve sent extra soldiers to HQ and have bulked up our gun stores there. We have an opportunity with this circus to find out exactly what they are planning, and maybe prevent it.” His gaze came back to Gale with a deep breath.

“High Judge Azmus is attending the circus, as we hear it to possibly have it shut down. But Ophelia herself had allowed it set up outside of Vienda, so Azmus needs a sound reason to shut it. I wouldn’t put it past him to cause a ruffle at the performance and have Hanz’ minions plead it the fault of the wicks and humans. I propose...” He nodded again, patting Gale’s shoulder.

“I propose we take Azmus, capture him. Stop his plan and question him on Dorhaven.” A slow murmur started from the crowd, people mixed between agreeing with the man and frightened of the idea. Alyssa looked over them all, moving forward suddenly with a dark scowl, her fingers curling around the pommel and eyes watching carefully. Beside Stu, Ginny takes and propped her hands on small hips.

“Dangerous move. Azmus himself? May as well hand ourselves to the Seventen now.” Stu shushed her, his dark eyes on Gale and Serro as the former AAF member kept his gaze on the smith.

“I need guns, and bodies. Weapons faster than they can cast, and people who can blend in with his passive staff. We need to take Azmus before he makes it inside the circus. We need spies, to monitor his daily routines and find out how and when he will be leaving for the show. We need apocrathies to create a sedative, and ciphers to help send messages. We need muscle, to help over power him.” The man’s eye hardened, and his gaze became firmer.

“We need specialists, to disrupt casting and obtain information from Azmus when we have him.” Stu swore quietly, shaking his head.

“You need torturers.” He said angrily, his usually fatherly face a mask of quiet anger. Serro looked at him and nodded furiously.

“Yes Bull, yes. We need people who aren’t afraid to be ruthless. This is a war, and war isn’t pretty. If we don’t find out what’s being planned, we’re like sitting ducks.” His dark eye swept the crowd, and he released Gale’s shoulder to step away and address them all.

“A lot of you have friends and family in Dorhaven. Are you prepared to just wait and see what happens? Or are you prepared to take a stand, show the galdori that their magic means nothing against our might?” A hesitant murmur came from the crowd, before a woman’s voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” Stu turned, eyes bulging as he stared at the red haired witch beside him, Ginny’s face determined. Growling, the Bull looked up at Serro.

“She doesn’t go without me. I’m in.” Serro beamed, before looking back at Gale as more people began to add their voices.

“What say you, Gunner? You ready to have our voices heard?”

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Gale
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: Artful Gunner
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Mon Oct 08, 2018 7:23 am

in the know | very late
23 ROALIS 2718
Bait. Line. Hook. Sinker. It was an easy lure really, one a hungry fish would snap upon the moment it touched the water. Chin raised, the cadet held the long hard look as the Boss announced out to the crowd. Chest pumped, ego swelling, he took no hesitation in reaching down to her height and plucked upon it. There was a brief tilt of the head back to Stu and Ginny, finger rubbing firmly against her nose, a small mutter of “Fotamos”, before she began to follow him back up.

I know what I am doing.

She did not like the firm grip upon her shoulder however. Grasping, possessive, it sent the hairs on the back of her neck rising. The control, the pressure that was far too intrusive for her liking. There was a glance up to him, down to the hand, and a small shift of her shoulder – a hopeful subtle move that gave him enough of a hint.

The mention of her father however caused a small hum, that crease of the brow. His reputation preceded him, an intelligent mind that craved the equality, ever ready to do better and give more. He may have been dead in the ground for two years by the time Serro came to the position of leader, but she had not doubt that the pair had their interactions in the time before. The question what however was the nature of their relationship – pure business, comrades? Or something else entirely. It was all guess work from here.

It did not miss her attention however of the moving of the Wisp, closer and closing the gap. Of course it would frighten the people, it was a dangerous game and while the Resistance looked to claim those with no ties – everyone still had a line. Even if that line was not necessarily something to be brought out by coin or to each other’s loyalty; it was to themselves, their self-worth, their own laid out codes. It was working out what could encourage them to cross, the cost to send them rolling, the confidence that they would succeed.

The fact that she certain Serro was a mad man however never left her mind. It was people like him that caution had to be exercised, a small misstep or not catching one of his tells would be nothing but trouble. And that was before she even factored in this High Judge Azmus. He still however had not shared his plan. He merely sold the idea to the crowd to grab the attention, laying out his immediate demands. Released from his hold now, she felt the pressing tension grow, the expectation he was laying out to them. People brought it however; she could not help but snigger when Ginny through her lot in.

Ladies seem to have more balls than the men.

The pressure was on her now, she did not miss the expectation he left there. The use of the name Gunner made the skin crawl; it being something the smith would have preferred to keep quiet. A turn of the head, managed to crack a curl of the lip, feeling the eyes upon her.

There would be blood on her hands, if not directly then indirectly. Could she live with that?

She snorted.

She already had, for years.

But for now, it was giving and taking in the game of finding out more:

“For you, Boss?” Artful gave him a look, meeting his one eye with both of hers. Her hand extended to point back down to the crowd, “Neigh, not for you. For them. Everyone. To scream it loud and clear in the face of adversity?” The look did not waver, locking onto the pupil, her own sharpening. Shoulders squared, the thumb found a rest on the top of her belt, “To let them know we’re here and now, that we won’t simply slink off, be nothing more than a whimper of a dying ember? We are better than them, will overstep their lines and take back what they stole from us with all we have-”

She was not gilded tongued like him, mind picking out the words that made sense and seemed to carry weight in the situation. Her mouth opened briefly, paused, closed then opened again.

“I ain’t charismatic like you, so let’s keep it simple,” The once pointing hand came between them, pausing briefly as if to shake, “Fuck yeah, I am.” She leaned in briefly then, head turning away from the crowd and voice dropping into a whisper, “Might be able to help with the faster than magic. Got something in the works,” she gave a shrug, “Aside though, is it really just information you’re after here?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Tue Oct 23, 2018 6:41 am

Have, Must Be There
23rd Roalis, 2718 | The Book and Bell

Serro grinned as Gale played the part, rousing the crowd even more so by being the first of the many. He laughed, grabbing her hand and shaking it firmly as others began to take up the cheer and calling out their names. Alyssa had sidled up beside the smith and her boss, narrowing her gaze as Gale whispered to Serro. The AAF veteran chuckled quietly, looking at the crowd again.

“Quick, aren’t you. Information is always good, no matter what side you’re on. What we need though is—“

“Leverage.” The Wisp said curtly, her dark eyes locked on Gale with an unnerving intensity. Jon raised a hand, nodding a little.

“Indeed. Leverage. The High Judge is a hard man, but he’s also an important one. We do need information on whatever this rumour is regarding Dorhaven, but more importantly we need a bargaining chip. For when the worst might come. We need...leverage.” He held her gaze for a moment, before letting go of Gale’s hand and patting her on the shoulder.

“I’ll send word once the cell is set up, for now, don’t leave town.” With that, Serro diverted his attention back to the crowd, jumping into the throng to gather names and shake hands. In the mass of people, Stu stood with arms crossed, swearing and muttering angrily.

“I told you Ginny, don’t speak up. This ain’t right. Serro ain’t...he’s seen things. Bad things.” Ginny frowned up at the human who was at least twice her size, poking him in the chest with a tiny finger.

“It were us or some other moony lugger Stu. Ye ent at all the least bit curious in what Serro’s plannin’?” The man scowled, glancing at Gale.

“No. I am all in for the resistance but this feels different. It feels...personal. And I ain’t a pawn for personal vendettas. Gollies have tortured our kind before, an eye for an eye don’t make it right. It won’t fix what’s wrong with the world.” He sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Suppose that’s that then, for now. Our names are burned into the books, it’s only a matter of time before Serro comes knocking. No point being here any longer. I got a bar to get back to.” The brown eyed human seemed tired, shaking his head again and waving dismissively at the two.

“Come or stay, I ain’t bothered.” As he left, Ginny worried her lip for a moment, before turning to Gale.

“All in then, right Arty? Serro took a likin’ t’ye, f’sure. Fuck yeah!” She repeated the crude battle cry, raising an arm in the air, prompting a chorus of cheers from the crowd. Grinning, the green eyed witch looked after Stu and sighed.

“Always th’ good guy, poor Stu. He didn’t want this life, not really. Happy t’ keep t’ himself an’ keep his customers. But th’ gollies they...ah...look that’s his story t’tell, I should shut m’mouth.” Biting her lip to stop herself from rambling, the red head instead sang softly the last bars of tonight’s song, picking up from where it had left off.

“Now all my fellow wicks and humans, take warning from what I've to say. Mind all is your own as you toucheses, or you'll find us in the Hoxian Sea.”

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