The Loud, The Grungy, The Dead

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Nev
Posts: 6
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 9:35 am
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
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Writer: Rem
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Tue Nov 13, 2018 4:01 pm

30 DENTIS 2718
There was a certain brand of hatred Nev had for travel like this.

And like this referred to the boisterous chugging along of a steamboat. The metal contraption felt like the harbinger of the end, with its engine hissing loud enough to be heard even all the way up on the deck - and that, too, was nothing pleasing. Others might have seen it as a means of both showing off some meager wealth or as a decent way to travel, but the heavy hitter would see it as neither as long as her days carried. It was not a matter of getting sick from the steam or movement; she'd gotten over that a long time ago. If she could avoid it, she would, but there was a need for travel to be faster, so she was stuck with this.

Confining herself to the quarters did her no good. She shared it with wicks and humans alike, but what bothered wasn't them. It was the sharing. They were too intimate. Losing herself to the oblivion of sleep or drink was a welcome distraction that didn't come easy. Wouldn't come easy. Because they'd realized that she would be traveling in the same floating shit basin as them, they saw their chance. If they knew what she did, she wondered if it would change their tune. Or would they try to be more comfortable, more friendly? She didn't need friends; she needed to get where she was going and not have to deal with the wail of children and engines or the despicable chug chug chug that persisted day and night.

But this day brought a new wave of distaste for this particular mode of travel as a scream cut through the rhythm of nosy cabin mates playing a game of cards and the engine as their accompanying orchestra. A scream, of all things. Not loud enough to hear the desperation or shock, but loud enough to give pause. And then it was a flurry of hurried bodies climbing over one another in a cramped space to see what the commotion was about. It was as if the entirety of the boat had stopped to see what new attraction they could shown on their long ride.

Nev, though, had stayed behind. Exhaustion hung beneath her eyes as she contemplated using the disturbance as a good chance to get some sleep. Someone in the cabin snored - it wasn't her; how would she know otherwise? - and another was a rough sleeper. The creak of their bunk would keep the normally easy sleeper awake in the night. So much for that. They would only return and pester her with details she would undoubtedly want to know. It was that pesky little habit of hers, this nosiness. The only thing she shared with her cabin mates quite seriously. A sigh left her as she sat up, shoving her feet in her boots as she walked in the direction where all the chatter seemed to come from.

No peace tonight.

"What happened?"

"She looks like she's seen a ghost!"

"Is she alright?"

The murmur of conversation continued as she pushed through the crowd to get to the front, finding a human woman quivering on the wood of the second floor deck. The door to a cabin - hers, the galdor assumed - remained open to all to see. The view was a mess, a scattering of items that Nev didn't pay much attention to on display. But most prominent was the pooling blood beneath the body in the center of it all.

"Oh."

Certainly no peace tonight.

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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Topics: 42
Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 8:40 am

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SS Whiterunner | Evening
30 DENTIS 2718
Gale had been lazing about the deck, in the quarter designated for the lesser members of society. Arms leaning upon the railings, cigarette pinched between their fingers – they were not exactly smoking, but instead having the blast of considerably fresher air slam against their features. The rest of the world drifted on past, blips from either side that gradually faded away. What remained however was the sound of squarking children, bored already with the journey and eagerly pulling at each other. Mothers attempted to control them, dragging them to behave; but it was already too late. All that was left was the disappointing scowls of the Galdori who tutted and returned to the reading of their broad sheets.

Of course, why the smith was traveling to begin with proved to be the biggest distraction.

People knew too much, all ruled by a single Gentleman; they knew the truth Gale kept beneath the layers of clothing, the form of a woman not a man; they knew their allegiance to the resistance and by extension probably knew they made firearms. There was the potential they also knew of their blood relatives, that their brother posed as a Galdor and worked as a Seventen – but that was never clarified, and it was something the smith was not prepared to ask about. Doing so would only bring in more danger, to everyone. And Gale could not allow themselves to go down that route. In reality, Gale did not know what they knew. That in itself was a terrifying thought. Until then, they had to work alone, had to keep everyone away and had to deal with the looming problem of what happened when it became too much.

The smith inhaled the last of their smoke and flicked the end off into the dying light. A small stretch, shoulders rolled out before the pivot turn sent them across the decking. Past the scowls and down the steep steps into the lower, second floor. It was disorientating having to remember where their cabin was, so use to a stationary lifestyle that the idea of travelling anywhere seemed daunting. It was when they were part way down however that the scream sounded.

Gale paused, head turning as the sound traversed through the vessel. The footsteps came after, the crowd swelling in response to the noise – it was hard to not ignore, the two, three dozen and rapidly growing number collecting on one point. A buzzing nervous energy followed, the voices growing into panic – it was better to investigate and prepare accordingly on the chance everything went wrong.

“Scuse, comin’ through, ta much,” there was a few fields brushed upon, something the human detected as they worked their way through the crowd. A few grunts, the questions flying about. They all but staggered in the end, hands pushing the last few aside – and regretted it instantly. Jaw went slack, nostrils catching a particular scent. There was blood, but there was also the scent of body waste. The cowering woman, the gaze shifted up and past, locked upon the body in the cabin. The smith breathed, “Shit.”

No one had made a move in closer, the human woman slowly returning to the reality she was in; there was blood on her hands, clinging up her sleeves as it crawled up their forearms. The eyes saw the blood, a whimper juddering out of their lungs. But no one moved, the stony faces looking down – why had no one done anything? Where was the shipmen? The sailors of the vessel?

“Oi,” Gale spoke quietly, then picked up to the mumbling crowd, “Oi, someone find the captain already. Or some lawman, I dunno. Anyone?” The smith stepped out properly then, bending down to the woman’s height, “Hey. S’lright. People are… comin’.” The head turned back to the crowd, “Seriously? No one in fuckin’ charge here? You not gonna help then scat. Did anyone even see anythin’?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Nev
Posts: 6
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 9:35 am
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Rem
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 9:36 am

30 DENTIS 2718
It had been a few years since she could be considered a “lawman,” buut in a way she still was. Nev had drawn in too close. All that galdori excellence would surely put the woman off further but now there was a wick out there calling for help. And the only way to achieve any sort of peace tonight would be to get involved, she figured. Or well, it would be the only way to stop thhat righteous itch in her fingers. She would be the only one to do this right, it told her. So she complied.

Pushing through the ring of people still lingering before her was easy enough. There was a strength to her field that seemed to command moving out of the way or being moved. The furrow of her brow and that natural glare helped as well, but it didn’t matter in light of what she had to deal with.

You know the drill, Nev. She could recall it as though it were her first time out in the field, her first instruction in dealing with a fresh scene like this. “Everyone back; don’t clocking touch anything.” A finger jabbed in the air at the woman. “Get her something to drink and a change of clothes.” A pause. “Something strong.”

There were murmurs of discontent. Of course, there would be. Nev had just thrown herself into the mix of it all and started barking out orders. But so had that other pale haired wick; with two cooks in the kitchen, they would be fine. Her hands rested on her hips, the authority of being Seventen - even if it had been some time - still apparent in the ramrod straight posture. Despite the scabs on her knuckles or the bruise now yellow on her jaw, despite the wild field of her hair - there was a challenge brooding there in her stature for someone to try her.

“Well? Get to it!”

There was movement, though reluctant, and then she turned back to the scene. The woman would be in no state to answer any sort of question - but that wick could. “You.” The formalities of address were not ones that she cared for. A simple stamp of her foot in is general direction was all that she needed. “Help her up.”

“And then, help me.”
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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Topics: 42
Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Writer: Crosspatch
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 10:44 am

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SS Whiterunner | Evening
30 DENTIS 2718
Gale felt the field before they saw the owner, a prickling sensation that sent a nervous chill down their spine. The smith froze, suddenly very aware of the position they were in – on how they had left themselves exposed to the nervous nature of the crowd. For a moment they feared it was about to turn into a mob, breath baited before they fortunately began to disperse. The orbs shifted, resting upon the boots of the Galdor and flickering upwards. A tired mess was the mental snapshot Gale stole from it all. Complying, the smith helped the woman clamber up to her feet, bracing as the weight rocked against them. Another came to their aid then, one of the nearby cabins opening up and the mere shell of the woman being poured in.

It was going to be a long night.

The smith pointed at themselves, before shrugging, “All right, you’re the boss.”

Perhaps only then they noticed the small flecks of blood on their own shirt, the points where the woman had touched the fabric and smeared the drying mess. The same was for the hands. The chill lingered across those digits, before they were rubbed off on the dark fabric of their trousers.

No. Not now. Need to focus.

A few lingered, but that did not concern Gale. They leant up alongside the cabin door, not entering but head peering round. The orbs shifted back and forth, furrowing as it looked upon the corpse – something else was on the air too. The gaze swivelled, picking out the remains of some smashed bottle and some fermented alcohol pooling across the floor and mingling in with the blood.

Blood. You killed them. They had families too. But for what? For a seve-

Gale blinked, gaze swivelling back to the Galdor. A Seventen? Out of uniform but looking a mess. Maybe. It would explain why they had stepped up to the plate without a second thought. The green orbs shifted back, “So uh… how we goin’ about this? Like, this seems more like your stick.”

Chin raised, the orbs shifted around; there was a smear of blood on the wall, a dragged hand print, the body had lost a lot of blood too. Or seemed like it. They could not quite get a good view from where they were, and part of them was reluctant to get closer. A case was there too, upside down and contents spilled out across the cabin. A hand rubbed at their chin, “You think, maybe, they just fell? ‘Haps. Dunno.”

Pulling away, the smith stood the opposite the open cabin door.Circling around the shape in their mind, the narrow door that hung inwards, the metal frame and brace, the mostly square shape, where the latch would sit – No, that was wrong.

“Oi, this door was forced open,” The finger gestured, pointing to the lip where door and frame sat. Part of the metal had bowed out, revealing it to be the flimsy piece it appeared to me, “Need a bar to do that. Uh, sorry. How am I helpin’?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
User avatar
Nev
Posts: 6
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 9:35 am
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Rem
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Thu Nov 15, 2018 3:13 pm

30 DENTIS 2718
Nev would need to remember what the punishment for posing as a Seventen was. It didn’t quite reach her at the moment, but she’d recall it at some point in this mess. Rather than outright answer the other, she set her sights to the details of the watching crowd. There were still stragglers, probably waiting for a tidbit to carry back to those waiting for them. “You three, secure the perimeter. No one gets close unless it’s the captain - and let me know if it is the captain.” She’d at least like a warning before she had to run.

With threat of people trampling all over the evidence somewhat nullified, she could return to focusing on what really mattered. Or, at least getting to the bottom of things here. There would be clues in all the usual places, yes - it didn't take a investigative genius to figure that out. But then the man had the gall to suggest he fell. The speculation was met with a scoff and a look of incredulity, brows up and eyes wide but somewhat amused. "When you fall, let me know if you bleed that much, yeah?" Head wounds did have a tendency to look worse than they were. It wouldn't hurt to check, she supposed, but her doubts were many.

In retrospect, it might have been better to get something other than her hands to use to turn the man over, but it was too late by the time she thought of it. The body had gotten heavier, taking some effort to turn over. But at least it made the cause of death obvious, and confirmed that it wasn't just a simple fall. Not with that glaringly large wound on his chest, it wasn't. As if to punctuate this point, she looked back to the man with the smallest of smug grins.

It fell when he mentioned the door. It was apparent that it had been forced open. Making this much, much more than just a fall. Someone had meant to do this man harm, one way or another and the way they chose just so happened to be quite bloody. Or maybe it wasn't meant to go this wrong. Nev looked back to the man on the ground, taking in the remnants of his final expression. He'd fucked someone over, surely.

"We search his belongings, and then we ask his companion what he had on him." If they'd tried hard enough to pry the door from its hinges, it must have meant he'd had something of theirs. Something important enough to go through all this trouble. "We can double check whatever isn't here with her. And then - the captain. Speaking of, someone ought to go get them. Clearly, we're on our way merrily down the stream with a murderer."

She clocking hated steamboats.
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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Topics: 42
Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Writer: Crosspatch
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Sat Nov 17, 2018 10:47 am

Image
SS Whiterunner | Evening
30 DENTIS 2718
“Guessin’ you don’t see many of the drunks take a stumble down in the soot, aye?” Gale shrugged, letting the scoff be exactly what it sounded like. They chose to have someone not specialised in this field, what else did they expect? Behaviour certainly suggested they were a Seventen, and the sense of self-righteousness merely painted it up. They seemed focused on the task, issuing out their orders and largely ignoring the questions poised. So the smith took a lean up against the wall, arms folded while the mind pieced together what was before them currently. They drew their own mental map, filled it with furnishings and turned it until things fit.

Thumb and forefinger scratched at the chin, as they looked at the door frame; crowbar. This is ship steel protected by a layer of various chemicals to prevent it from degrading to the elements. While it was a weak point, it still meant someone needed to put a crowbar to the edge to pry it open from beneath the lip. Someone strong who knew what they were doing. Within was much the same as standard cabins on the vessel. Slept four, a relatively cramped space. It meant there was little room for a struggle. Did not mean it was absent however.

Grimacing as the body was turned, the orbs immediately lowering down to the floor they recorded a mental note of the wound; large, stabbing, guessing clean withdrawal. A sniff – there was no lingering scent of anything being burned, and they all would have heard a gunshot. A broad straight edged blade, primarily to thrust with more than anything else. A shaft however could do the same however with sufficient force, and would create and overall larger hole.

Or a shiv.

That was an amusing thought. The eyes shifted to the front of the cabin door, number twelve, before focusing back onto the Galdor. There would be a record of names of the inhabitants on board and who was assigned to which room. Carefully, the smith came closer once more, eyes scanning him more closely. An average human, male, shaven – and therefore either a professional or not married -, he looked better off than Gale in regards to dress. What was not stained was clean for a start, the shoes of a shiny black leather. Clean hands too, with the overall size suggesting he was probably human.

A purse of lips, the smith gingerly crossed the threshold to stand above the corpse. The hands flexed, watching the Galdor handle the body, before pointing to the left side of his chest – a finger hooked under the coat, then beneath then carefully withdrew. With it came a small tobacco tin, the insides shaking, “Got a smoker then.” That added more people to the list. The smith returned it, “So, cabin twelve – find out who else stayed in this room. Then, maybe...”

The smith paused, head tilting at the high collar of his shirt. Gingerly they peeled it back, the cooling skin beneath still uncomfortably warm to the touch. Beneath a dark outline of some tiny bird rested there, “Oi, tattoo.” The hands withdrew, eyes looking back out the cabin, “Imagine the captain’d be comin’ soon.”

They could hear the footsteps coming down the corridor, the angered muttering of who they presumed was the captain coming down quickly, “-on my ship, of all places! Get the passengers back into their quarters.”

Gale withdrew, moving to stand by the door once more and giving the captain a clear line of sight to the person obviously in charge. The smith frowned, fingers drumming against the wall. It was definitely some form of manslaughter, though the reason why was currently beyond them. Before the captain arrived the smith asked, “How long you think he’s been dead? Hour? Two?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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