S1: E3 "Unexpected Guests"

A Bounty Hunter and a Cook

Ed Gurunkul slipped out into the Twilight. His feet fell into a easy rhythm against the cobbled streets of Low Park. He mused over the distribution of homes, built atop each other, older stone bricks and plaster walls crumbling beneath newer wooden stick homes. Its often the way of men to never look beyond the surface of the world and judge it. Perhaps he might have drawn some philosophical observation about life and purpose. But Ed was a simpleton. He passed by, pulled out his pipe and noticed his tabacco was running low. He wished for a snuff of his favorite tabacco but his coin was humble and he needed to bag a few more lowlife's and then he could at least have packet of Queen's to help him pass the nights in whatever bed he could find.

Despite a bleak existence, Ed was unusually optimistic. How easy his mind was, for he only had to think of today. Ed had dreams, like many of average intelligence do. But the dream was somewhere out in the abyss, unatainable but it provided a vague direction. Much like how a compass always points North. Its comforting, but useless to someone who flows with the current. Ed knew of many things. But he did not care about them as much as he knew them. Knowing was important.

Ed liked people who knew things. His job was about knowing things. Seemingly useless data collected into a computing machine and filtered through a series of experiences and knowledge kept Ed in things like tobacco, bullets and a few modest luxuries. It was why Ed found himself outside the Grey Minuet, a dressed up establishment that passed off cheap cuts of meat and poor vegatables as a dinner worthy of a poor man's daily salary. The worker of magic in the kitchen was a Orc woman named Borbtharz; or Borb to everyone but the police, an employment agency in High Park and a elderly Eldren landlady who enjoyed reminding Borb she was of low birth. 

Borb was a broad, heavy set orc woman with an equally heavy temper when it came to the running of her kitchen. Though uneducated, Borb had a way of knowing things. She was simple in perspective, but a nurturing and motherly woman to those she took a liking towards. People told things to Borb and Borb listened. It was how she learned how to cook. Once a simple scullery maid, she noted the spices the cook added to the soups and the chickens. She watched with keen interest as he blended flavors and crafted sauces, selected herbs for stews and savored the results. She also noted his taste for expensive whiskey, a vice she had since maintained when she could scrape together enough coin.

Borb was busy stirring in a abundance of cut onions and broth from some unfortunate fowls which had been under the false impression their lives were secure in their natural inclinations towards fostering chickens from eggs into other chickens. They realized their mistake too late amidst cries of betrayal and slipped into boiling water. She saw Ed and, between barking commands at the poor staff who had either become accustomed to her harsh demeanor or were laboring under the false impression their cries for help would be met with anything short of being added to the stew, flew through the kitchen with plates in hand, orders from customers or washing used cutlery and crockery. Borb dished out a bowl of steaming stew she had just finished making and shoved it in front of Ed.

Born knew Ed from the street. They'd both come up together in a way. Not friends. But there is a bond between Orcs. There is no going up, improving their way of live beyond a few more coin a week. Borb was fortunate, as was Ed. There was a unspoken kindred spirit and as much as Borb was unwilling to admit it, she had a soft spot for the bounty hunter. The characteristics mentioned previously, and those of being not entirely hard to look at, made Ed a favorite of Borb. But ignorance and pride have a terrible time trying to find that common ground. And so Borb did what most women do when they feel more then a natural effection for another; they fill their bellies, mend their wounds and keeping them out of trouble until they get a clue.

Ed asked Borb the usual questions. She abliged with answers. Ed learned that the young boy who was murdered the previous day had been one of Roald's boys. The police, used the the grisly business of senseless violence, had likened it to just another unsolved murder. Borb was equally unaware as to the reason for the boy getting shanked. Roald is a "business man" who deals in the exotic and rare commodities that usually go to well paying customers. He also controls a large part of the muscle in the city of Newhaven. He frequents a club known as the Swanky Gent.

In between bites, Ed also asked in Borb had anything on a new bounty for the arrest of another young man by the name of Lazarus Igglesden. A practitioner of Dark Magic. It was an amusing accusation. But Ed, being a simple man, failed to notice the tightness at the corners of Borb's eyes, the change of tone and the apprehension in her demeanor. A more cunning man might have supposed Borb was hiding something. But Ed was enjoying his soup and still working out why the kid from the Tradeway had ended up with a knife in his back. He completed this train of thought, wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and left, attempting to find the mysterious man named Roald who somehow fit into this puzzle.

"A dime, a rhyme, a opportune time."

As the raccoons were relaxing in their shared appartment, a unexpected knock sounded on the door outside. Pairs of dark eyes met for a instant before everyone did what was most natural for creatures who were thieves and had a healthy survival instinct. Stowing their prosthetic suit behind the drapes, they dove behind potted plants, into and under furniture and behind doors. Walter then opened the door and placed himself against the wall next to the hinges. Perhaps, if these poor beasts had a ounce more humanity, they might have realized that there is a certain respect of personal space and maintaining a human form affords you a certain priviledge that not even a policeman can infringe upon without due cause. 

Eyes tracked the door as it opened, and three men entered the apartment. The group noticed the polished shoes, tailored pants and shiny tophats. Hendrick, being the most human of the gang, realized that this pair of men shared a uncanny resemblance. They might have been considered identical even. They entered, instantly spotted the strange bundle of arms and legs stored behind the drapes and attempted to communicate with it. Hendrick stealthily approached, unable to help himself to the contents of their pockets. Three pairs of eyes met his as his tiny paw felt the cold of metal in one of their pocket.

I will not attempt to recreate the strange way these three men spoke, how they strung together words as if everything were bad poetry or terrible lyrics to unwritten songs, but it alarmed the gang of raccoons. The three men were, to put it mildly, impressed with the shenanigans at the Ames Club the previous day. They offered him a chance to join them, and continue creating chaos. They promise to make his current ordeal disappear and give him a gold cigarette case. Though he had the good sense to not outright accept, he was helpless in refusing their extravagent gift. With a final farewell spoken in tandem, promising they would be watching with keen interest, they disappeared as quick as gas lights are extinguished. 

Bombs and Burglary

Roku was panicked as he fled his apartment and reached the residence of Thomas Thompson. The jumble of words flowing from Hendrick, the chattering of Round Craig, Walter, Herold, Lefty and Ralph would have driven any man crazy. The thought that they had been visited by a agent of the heavenly host or a demon of the Maleficium had set the 6 raccoons off. He even showed Thomas the cigarette case he had been given. Thomas examined the invaluable gold case, its chaotic filegree and consantly shifting design, and realized this was beyond anything he had ever seen. The workmanship was by itself a thing of beauty. He made a rubbing of this strange case and gave it back to Roku. As the raccoons calmed down, they settled on a favor from Thomas in regards to aquiring a explosive device. For safety. That's all it was for.

The question should have set Thomas into a serious scrutiny of the relationship he had profited from for so many years. Perhaps it would be better to create some distance from the collection of creatures before something literally blew up in his face. Despite Thomas' skepticism, the question was interesting and Thomas had larger problems on his mind, such as the Symposium of Experimental Science and Innovation in less then a month. Besides, what was one bomb to the praise and triumph of winning the Symposium and the future of electrical energy. Besides, if Roku could get him the parts he needed...

Thomas relented, agreeing to find him a bomb if Roku would steal all the parts to a elecrical static generator from the famed electrical innovator, Mashelle Faraday from her home in the Guilded Row. Roku initially balked at this request as he had just performed work for Thomas and wanted more in return. He seemed equally shocked at the thought of becoming a common thief, a point Thomas countered by pointing to Roku's new cane. Agreeing to the terms, Roku set off to find the home of the famed inventor and plan this caper, while Thomas returned to his plans.

Daisy Eyes, Iron Sides

Venturing once again to the lower realms of Newhaven, Thomas went to visit his old friend, Daisy "Iron Eye" Eoghan. Daisy had been like a mother to Thomas, taking the budding engineer under her wing and treating him with all the fairness and firmness of her own kin. She admired his natural intellect, his creativity and gifts to understand complex formulae. Thomas, for his part, admired the stalwart woman, who had carved out a place among the industrialists and artificers. But her current residence was not inspiring as he knocked on the back door to a insignificant warehouse. Daisy, upon seeing her little "Pigeon" hugged him in a neck hold and then released him into a chair and poured up some liquid courage for them both. Once past the pleasantries and motherly scouldings to write more and eat better, Thomas fabricates a elaborate lie about a rocket project demonstration to cover for his questions about finding someone who can fabricate explosives. 

Daisy was many things in her life. A prizefighting boxer. A brilliant engineer. She could make a really good leg of lamb. But Daisy was not a savvy woman. She had been taken in far too many times for her own good. She had learned the hard way. But she was oblivious to the deceits of a silvery tongue and a approving smile. It was why she was currently experiencing the pinch. She had taken a large contract, been bamboozled into terms she didn't fully understand, and was facing some hefty debts. But she was determined, resourceful and had a few favors she could call it. But it was for this reason, and her perticular fondness of Thomas, that she failed to penetrate the deceit. She gave Thomas a name of Frag Bruiser, a demolitionist who could discreatly handle a quick order and ensure it stayed between them. Promising to return soon, Thomas leaves Daisy to nurse a glass of whiskey and figure out how to get herself out of the mess of her own making.

Oh, Grandmother

It is true the wealthy have many idle pleasures to occupy their time. Lindion had, for better or worse, been facinated by the world outside of the guilded halls and sanguine environments since she was a girl. She had faithfully read Heart of the Empire since its debut in the Newhaven Times. It was a small "comic" which ran once a week, detailing the exciting adventures of rough rider and adventurer, John Flemming. The detailed images and exiting perils often amused her. 

As Philip entered, she set aside her newspaper and instructed him to assemple the staff in the dining room so she could speak to them. She then told them about the new Ward who would be staying with them for the foreseeable future. She gave them strict instruction for interacting with the young girl, expectations and goals. Dismissing them, Philip spoke to her about the long term implications. Assured by Lindion he departs to get her journals. He returns a few moments later without the journals and informs his mistress that she has a visitor.

Lindion enters the parlor and sees the thin form of her grandmother, the unflappable, inestimable, Dame Elvira Temperance Lorieth. The Matriarch of the royal family, mother of Lindion's mother, Ciseal, and the foremost critic of her granddaughter. Her quick gaze, withering expressions and sharp words had, before Lindion's own eyes, been reduced from proud to lowly before her grandmother. 

It would have been inproper to break from proper ettiquette and converse like common people. It was then, the two strong-willed women, drew up to the metaphorical chessboard and made their initial moves. Elvira made the first few moves, sacrificing some pawns in favor of sizing up her granddaughter, who accepted the challenge and easily navigated the bated words and glances, just barely maintaining her composure. Elvira went in with her prime move, inquiring as to Lindion's actions recently; being seen at a public house in the lower districts was tantemount to scandal. Lindion gracefully countered with the grace and charm she naturally possessed to reassure her grandmother she would never do anything to shame the Lorieth name. Elriva made the normal remarks about her father and his lower breeding, chides Lindion on still being single and her duty to make a good match. Seeing Lindion remained unchanged, Elvira made her crowning move, the whole reason she had left the comfort of the Palazzo. 

She asked Lindion if she had ever heard of the Church of the Everyman, a new religious faction gaining momentum among the lower class. Lindion, unaware of the nature of this new church, assured her grandmother she knew nothing about it. Elvira, knowing her granddaughter was speaking the truth, made to depart after completeing the proper social rituals. Lindion, however, took Elvira off guard as she again, reassured her grandmother that even though they don't always agree, Lindion always respected and admired her grandmother and was grateful for everything she had been taught. It was not the compliments. She had heard them all before. It was the sincerity behind those words. Tartly accepting them, Elvira left, mounted her carraige and thought of her next moves now that she had recruited Lindion into her larger game.