[PM to Join] A pint in the night! What better?

[Francis Pusher]

05 Yaris 2718, Clockwork Stag

Francis was knackered; there was no doubt about that. Every day at the Warehouse’s was goin’ back an’ forth like a spoke goin’ from place to place. Except Francis did most of his going and coming withing the city and half the time in the warehouses themselves. The dark skinned man ran a hand through his hair, sitting on a stool at the bar counter as he tried to put aside thoughts of the day.

Its why he an’almost everyone else comes to the Stag after all, a nice hearth keeping the place warm an’ good drink to numb the mind. Granted Francis wasn’t quite moony about the cups… but he reckoned so long as he could drink it he’d not have a tick of trouble.

“Pint o’ beer in an old, friend”

He tapped his hand on the counter, though he winced as even that light knock caused his knuckles to wince. Last time he let a goney help out if he could help it, ‘cept he couldn’t so there was nothing he could do about that.

A misshapen lump of clay vaugley resembling a cup was set before him. Francis didn’t know what do with that as he rotated the thing…. Oh knew there was drink in it, he didn’t need to look over the gap just to check…. No no, question was…. Where was the right edge he could drink out of without spilling his drink right on his trousers.

He looked up at the bartender, the one-eye lout staring back at him in silence. An itch at the back of Francis’s head told him to make some sort of remark about the fellows…. ‘artistic’ skills, but ya don’t bit the hand that poured your drinks an’ sides…

Least he had a drink now.

Gingerly he lifted the mug holding his drink, his lip latching onto a corner and valiantly he the attempt to drink. The cool beer seeped down his gullet, rewarding Francis with a feeling of refreshment that could only come after a long day’s work even as bit couldn’t help but slide down his chin and onto his shirt.

“Oh now that there’s the spot” He let out after slamming the mug’s bottom on the counter. His eyes travelled the sea of people here after a day’s long work. Dozen’s of folks like himself, they were, an’ he was a might sure he’d folks to chat up a bit, crack a joke or two.

He had the looks and the mouth, if not the smarts. Surely he lost nothin’ in the attempt. Now was the time to make it all good!

[Vincent Black]

05 Yaris 2718, Clockwork Stag

V incent stood outside of the Clockwork Stag, staring at the entrance. As usual his rapier was hidden, wrapped in a bundle of cloth and held together by twine and resting in the grip of his left hand. His right hand in his pocket, fumbling with the few square-like coins that he had left. He needed to figure something out shortly or he wouldn’t be able to survive long enough to fight against the Galdor. But he needed something, and that is why he was here.

He needed muscle. As much as Vincent wanted to be a rogue warrior, striding silently through the streets and executing people as he went, he was well aware that it wasn’t plausible. He’d be more likely to be blasted away from a spell acting like that, or worse, imprisoned and tortured. Plus, it’d be all for nothing. He got a few allies, maybe aligned himself with a faction or two...progress wouldn’t just erase itself because he stopped breathing.

So with a sigh, he entered, casually making his way towards the barkeep and making his order. With a clay cup, of course, couldn’t afford to spend much. Especially if he broke the cup. He took a long sip of the cool ale before peering his way through the crowd, not once letting his grip soften on the hidden blade. Too weak, he thought to himself glancing at an old man. He glanced at a scarred man sulking in the corner – Too scary. His gaze finally rested on a dark skin male – There we go. He nodded to himself and casually made his way in that direction. Not sitting in the corner directly next to him, but close enough where he could be heard.

“Tell you what,” He said loudly, “Plannin’ on getting guttered. Clockin’ dobber ratted me to uncle gollie’. Now I have to get off ta’ path.” He paused. “ ‘Eh, he won’t be flexin his neck for long.”

He silenced himself. Did he use to much slang? Overemphasized the fake dialect? He cursed himself mentally. O’course, the whole story was bollocks. Vincent had been doing his best to lay low, except for the incident with the urchin, he just wanted to gauge how the guy react. Could back-fire though. He was already doubting his choice of approach. This probably will back-fire, he thought to himself.

[Francis Pusher]

05 Yaris 2718, Clockwork Stag

Francis took a glance at the taller fellow, in fact he was tall even for your average Anaxan. While Francis wasn’t a short fellow, he wasn’t your average weak one and he could note that the man had some muscle to his bones. What caught his gaze was the fellow’s item in his hand, man looked be keeping a hand on it like a person holding onto his last hand.

Then his ears listen to the fellows words. His body’s first instinct was to raise a brow, being the sort who likes to talk himself, Francis understood most of the gab given… and he had to wonder what sort of fellow just walks up to another and announce to him that he’s in trouble with the gollies, had some sort of snitch to deal with, and was going to handle said snitch soon enough in a place of mostly tired workers?

Also he didn’t sound local, which really ought to be his biggest clue. Francis slowly lifted his cup, took a sip, then put it back down on the counter without turning his gaze away.

‘He pullin’ for something? Some sorta Golly lovin’ erse ?’

It was one explanation really, why else would someone do what the guy just did? Walking up to someone and wagging their tongue like that. But he wasn’t quite ready to commit to that, gotta look at some sorta brightside before ringing the clock which meant granting a benefit of the doubt.

“An’ ya come ‘ere at the Soots? This ain’t the place for yer sort” Francis said instead of the more confrontational words he had in mind “I mean ya could try rentin’ a room or somethin’ but if Gollie’s come lookin’ ya ain’t gonna find nothin’ but a closet ta hide in if they saw ya comin’ this way” Which would be the truth, oh sure there was always chance of a riot to prevent the Gollie’s from getting their hands on ‘em, but most everyone here were workers, not fighters nor criminals.

“Why didn’t ya try Soliloquy?” He asked, using the name of the city’s most dangerous crime ridden area where the man’s assumed sort would definitely be. Probably not the last place the Gollie’s would look, but definitely the place they’d bring out the numbers.

[Vincent Black]

05 Yaris 2718, Clockwork Stag

V incent listened as the man replied, nodding some to what he was saying and letting him finish entirely before he started speaking. He brought the clay mug to his lips, taking a long sip, enjoying the taste. Would probably be his last tasty drink in a while, probably dirty water for the next few weeks until he could get his rackets set up.

“Eh, easier to hide in clear sight, ‘innit?” He shrugged his shoulders, fighting back against the smile that was beginning to form on the corner of his lips. The man was being surprisingly responsive. He turned fully to face Francis, finishing his drink and staring down into the empty clay mug. Now was the time to push at him, see exactly what type of man this guy was. Forging a fake scowl he looked the man up and down. “’Eh, must already be guttered. Look at me speakin’ so freely ta you. Ya kinda got ta look of a dobby. Must be a lugger talkin’ to yer type so freely.” He quit talking, turning away again, the grin nearly coming free but he handled to suppress it. Now it was just a simple wait and see as to how the man would response.

It isn’t often that Vincent hoped he get slugged, but this was one of those times. Wanted the man to get angry with him and clock him. But apart of him, wanted to see if the man would just shrug it off and go back to what he was doing. Was a dangerous game testing people...

Natalie, he thought, was much better at this. He let out a soft sigh, fighting the wave of depression that was trying to overcome him.

Maybe he should try to go this alone. He owed it to Natalie to at least not risk the lives of civvies. If he died in his vendetta, at least it would end the suffering.

No, He screamed to himself mentally. Can’t do it alone. If some of your own die along the way, so be it. It needed to be done. No matter what the cost might be. Do what needs to be done.

But do it carefully,. This time it wasn’t his own voice that filled his thoughts. It was Natalie’s, or at least, as close to remembering her voice as he could get. Don’t take unnecessary risks.

[Francis Pusher]

05 Yaris 2718, Clockwork Stag

Francis wasn’t sure if hiding in easier was that easy, then again he wasn’t on the wrong side of the Seventen’s gaze nor did he have the experience of it. Then the man switched tones, adopting a mean look on his face and outright insulting Francis..

Now Francis wasn’t a man who rushed, he wasn’t smart in the traditional sense sure, no book learning after all, But he talked to folks enough times to know when he’s getting ticked. Downing the rest of his drink in one long gulp, he set aside the clay cup on the counter and crossed his arms at the man.


He wasn’t sure how to voice entirely, fella was pulling for something like he pulled for girls, and while Francis wanted to knock the chimes out of the man’s head he was held back by curiousity.

He was held back by the ‘why’ of things.


“Alright, I’ll be the fresh sap an’ bite. What the clock issit yer wantin of me an’? Was kinda hopin’ ta have a good drink an’ a good time before yer ugly mug ‘cided ta show up” Which was as much frustration Francis was willing to let out as he stared at the man.

He coulda just said no and turned away from him of course, but the fact he was willing to tolerate the nuisance for this long showed how much of it he had. He could always say no after and just head home for an early lay on the pillow.