Captain Timney tosses some gear into a plot in the Transient Camps, and drops a few gold in the watchman's palm.
"Never had anything pilfered from here, so... Whatever ya don't feel like hauling around town."
He gestures to the twenty foot stone-bordered square.
"Or you can just sack out for a while. No one's likely to mess with ya."
Some of the group has been to Okorn Spring, but for many of you it is the first time. You have been out in the wasteland for months... some years. Captain Timney is a calm cult of personality. He has been good for the group, but his loss of the will to fight makes him (in most ways) unfitting for this world.
The group has picked up a few who can handle themselves in a fight. That's good, because about all that's left after a string of violent incidents are a handful of young folk "with some real potential".
"I'ma go meet up with Bergen Lachlan... runs this place. I'll see what he has to say."
"We usually end up at the Rusty Palomino up on the Slab if millin around the Springs brings a thirst."
Five of the militia (light leather armor, rifles, pistols, and whips) stroll about - patrolling between the camps and the main settlement.
One nears, leans in and advises.
Guard: "Gotta check your chambers. No loaded firearms."
From here, you can see at least a few dozen people within the settlement. Most within view are gathered around the market stalls on the west end.
The structures are built from a variety of materials stone, wood, bricks and plasters of dried mud.
Draught dutifully hands her pistol over to the guard to show that it's not currently loaded. She then continues into the settlement, looking around and taking in the people.
"Alright. We're good" The guard nods, and glances back into town.
"Some boys from Fort Windscar in town... ones in red leather tech vests. Be best if you don't give em a chance to get a rise outta ya." He starts to step away to the next visitor entering town - apparently not intending to elaborate.
Calvarot opens up his cloak for the guard to search him, paying him no mind, bardiche in hand, held like a king's scepter.
He always hated this part, and almost killed a man for getting too frisky once.
Despite all of the other annoyances this town has to offer, he's appreciative that he probably won't have to sleep with one eye open tonight.
"I've only got what you can see, whelp. You can either trust it or not, it won't change truth."
He growls to the guard with a very 'get off me' vibe.
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"Yep. Whelp... that's me. Just so remember what name to yell out if you get yourself into trouble in town."
The guard looks Calvarot over, and nods.
"If you're here trying to pick a fight for the ring, don't waste all your mean looks on me."
The first structure you notice walking into town is what is known as the Slab. It is a massive curved block of stone with arched tunnels passing through it at ground level. The history of it might be important to someone. Any carvings or stylistic feature have eroded. What matters to most... it's handy. It's shelter near water. Water which is a good boil away from drinkable.
In the center of town you see the ring to which the guard refers. The ovular perimeter is made up of random stacked junk, cork scraps (a plentiful local resource), and sheet metal - rusted and pitted.
Zazz puts on a business smile of a juggler and opens his purple poncho with a bit of a silent entertainer's flair -revealing his the tools of his trade. Several shiny but old cogs and cogwheels and no firearms to inspect.
While he flourishes Zazz remembers his old troupe leader's advice to distract with clothing and items to avoid closer inspection of his tattoos-A sore subject he was told to keep on the down-low Although he was never sure why.
Zazz remains silently smile while they finish up his checks. Hoping to avoid any Ire Calvarot engendered in the tired guards. "Have a good evening(or morning?)" Zazz softly speaks as he follows the group into town.
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"Not a troub jaka." Mayze caught herself slipping into cant out of habit. Not far off from common the dialect was used mostly to obscure the details from those not familiar with its nuances, particularly the authorities, or jaka. At the prompt of a search she opens her travel coat (a series of sewn together leather scraps in the vague form of a trench coat) wide exposing a weapon belt with sword and daggers and more than a little skin. She twirls around once and says, "No bangers here lad, just blades and a poker." with a thumb she gestures to the unstrung bow and quiver on her back.
"Any word on where a dusty lass might find a nip'a real food?" She asks the guard on the way through, more trying to make conversation than anything. "Ain't ate but dried jerk and hard tack for days n days now."
The guard eyes Zazz for a moment, then nods. "Will do."
"Alright." The guard checks Mayze over.
"Some grub in the open market. Trickle Charge and the Rusty Palomino both got sit down eatin. Wugthort does a fine job of repacking rations... that's bout all I eat."
"Many thanks friend." She says with a nod.
Catching up to the rest of the group Mayze asks, "So where we want to head first amikoj(friends)? Sounds like we should make it to the Rusty Palomino at some time, but I say we do a bit a lookin'round first, seein' what this place has to see hey?" She rattles out, addressing her traveling companions while her attention is everywhere but. Her field of vision dances around wildly, trying to take in every detail about Okorn Spring. "First rounds outa my purse right?"
The first part of town you come to is an assault of stenches. Wet hay and manure from a stable of horses, then pungent and acrid chemical and musk - likely a tannery judging by the man scraping an animal skin stretched on a rack.
Just beyond that is a building of dark sooty stone belching coal smoke which drifts lazily through town on the relatively cool breeze blowing across the body of water to the north.
Straight ahead of you is a building made of bricks the color of the sands beyond the mountains to the south. This ashen-yellow building bears a sign "Wugthort's Meals and Deals".
Ahead and to your left is the ring at the center of town. There is a huddled crowd of about 6-8 people at the arched entrance of the arena fashioned from scrap. Most of those visible have their backs toward you. You do see that a few are wearing matching red leather vests with crisscrossed bandoliers. An older bearded man in a burlap tunic and galoshes shakes his head as he passes the crowd, and enter Wugthorts.
You hear the low rumble of fiery bellows and hisses of stoked flame... the rhythmic clang of hammering steel. Faintly in the distance you can hear the merchants at their stalls (likely conspiring with each other) in their own mash-of-sounds tongue... with voiced raised over their own noisy surroundings of grills, each other, and bothersome patrons.
What you hear of the small huddled crowd by the arena (not near enough to easily make out words), is the unsettling juxtaposition of laughter and anger.
There is someone on their knees in the center of the crowd - greenish skin. It looks like someone is leaning over them - possibly protecting the greenish person.
You hear bits and pieces. angry: "He has done nothing wrong! This arena is to settle differences not mete out needless violent urges!"
The crowd is taunting him, and calling him a lizard lover. You also hear a couple of the crowd who sound to be bickering over a price.
"Ghhhaa, smells worse than we do here. Bloody horses, nothin' smells worse than bloody horses..."
Coming up on the crowd and sensing signs of trouble Mayze is going to edge closer to take a better look at the situation. She looks back over her shoulder to check on what her companions are doing, wondering if they want to get involved.
Calvarot sees nothing but the usual clatter of waywards, deems nothing amiss and begins to walk towards Wugthorts.
"You ain't be fibbing about that round now, Mayze. We been walking too long for fibs."
Zazz briefly looks around and notice a rowdy crowd. But has no reason to assume this is out of the norm for the city. If it was likely the city guards would take action. Instead he saw opportunity to perhaps put on a small show. "How excitable it is here, Perhaps dould do without the scent." Zazz pulls up his poncho and looks down attempting to lessen the smell. "I wonder if perhaps I can make a coin or some new acquaintances here.. Mayhap the barkeep would enjoy some tricks..." Stating this Zazz begins scanning over the heads of the crowd for the sign to the Rusty Palomino.
(If I need a sense motive check to notice Mayze or if it's perc change the -2 to +5) .
With no hint of emotion, Draught says "Someone is trying to kill some sort of lizard person. It might need help, and if we help, it might reward us. I would help, if you are all amenable to such a course of action."
There are a few guards within view - distinguishable by their armaments and blue-tinged grey tabard-like ponchos.
None seem to be paying any attention to this.
Looking for signs, Zazz only sees a few. They are not directions to businesses here, but simply read "Keep Your Hands and Minds to Yourself.", "Violence Outside the Ring Brings Exile.", and "Our Pigs are Fed the Hands of Thieves."
Mayze certainly isn't looking worried, but rather excited. To anyone who's been around her for more than a month (presumably the party has been together at least that long) it's the look she gets when she's about to walk into a brawl of one sort or another.
Assuming no one has weapons drawn in the confrontation in the circle Mayze will walk through the crowd and enter. She doesn't imediately say anything, but does drop her pack at her feet and a little out of the way, and eye the people in the circle, looking for some sort of reaction.
While reading the signs, Zazz hears Draught's comments, "Ah. Well that doesn't seem good. Yes lets see the situation"
Upon seeing a team acquantince putting himself in possible danger Zazz will enter also, standing on the opposite area. Thinking to hopefully difuse and confuse, Zazz Smiles wide, tilting his head slightly to the side-flips open his poncho tossing 2 cogs and one cog wheel into the sky and begins juggling while smiling at the crowd. His cyber art begins to glow softly looking like clockwork gears that brightens each time he catchs a cog, Upon a high throw where the cogwheel and the cog line up and briefly slots together, he catchs the edge on his finger tip and spin it while putting on a big smile--the cyberart glows softely before a new pattern glows highlighting the cyberart in a new colour.
This is both to break the focus of the crowd on the Lizard and hopefully ruin the flow of a possible lynch mob and also to readily have a weapon if needed.
The crowd breaks apart a bit - slightly taken aback by Mayze passing by them into the ring. Within the center of the crowd, a man in simple dingy white robes turns to look to Mayze. At his feet is a lizardfolk on its knees wearing little more than rags.
The robed man speaks, "No no. No violence please."
One of the red vested men (with a cropped mohawk and a scar like a tree branch from forehead to cheekbone) interjects, "Hey leave it y'old kook. The lady has obviously some issue to settle."
Another of the red vested men moves to his side, and silently draws his attention to the rest of the group. The scarred man hesitates.
Just then, Zazz enters the ring as well. A few others - unrelated to this event, start to gather... though from a distance.
The scarred man looks to be weighing up the situation before continuing.
Zazz smiles wide, tilting his head slightly to the side-flips open his poncho tossing 2 cogs and one cog wheel into the sky and begins juggling while smiling at the crowd. His cyber art begins to glow softly looking like clockwork gears that brightens each time he catches a cog, Upon a high throw where the cogwheel and the cog line up and briefly slots together, he catches the edge on his finger tip and spin it while putting on a big smile--the cyberart glows softly before a new pattern glows highlighting the cyberart in a new colour.
The eyes of those who'd gathered go wide taking in what is truly an impressive feat.
The tension melts like butter. The red vested scarred man growls.
"Another time.... " He makes a curt wave motion to his fellows - apparently deciding it's time to move on.
He throws a glare at Mayze and Zazz as they begin to make their way past those enthralled by Zazz's performance.
Draught follows her allies toward the ring, just taking in the scene. Her eyes widen just a tiny fraction at the juggling display, showing that she is quite impressed indeed.
Zazz will continue his performance to the crowd's enjoyment but make a slight motion to Draught and Mayze towards the Robed fellow and the Lizard before continuing his performance to the crowd.
"I told you I'd get em!"
Tomin appears from the crowd holding the skinned and gutted carcass of a small animal. Rabbit or squirrel, hopefully, but likely large rat.
"He put up a hell of a chase but it looks like I'm eating free toni..."
Tomin senses the situation and stops mid sentence.
"Everything alright here?"
He quickly stuffs the small animal into a pouch.
While most of the crowd stands entranced like happy statues, many of the "Fort Windscar thugs" pfft dismissively, yet linger - their eyes tracking the juggled objects' flight and fall.
The "scarred man" (apparent leader of these red-vested thugs in particular) is lingering as well.
But he is waiting to see if Mayze will try to "call him out".
Zazz is too busy in his performance to realize anything
Mayze will make a point to get a good look at the Windscar Thugs so she'll recognize their faces. But doesn't notice anything else important about them.
"No violence indeed," She mutters to herself before turning to the robed man and the lizardfolk. "But there's always hope for the future hey? You two right and lively?" She gives them a quick look over, and assuming neither look overly hurt continues..."Wanna get out of the hurty circle maybe? Get in doors and have a rest'd be my advice. Might be less lethal."
She walks up behind Zazz careful not to disrupt his performance, whispering..."Meet you in Wugthorts when you're done. Scream out of those Red Vested twits cause any more ruckus hey?"
"Yes. Thank you. Your reasons I'll leave your own, but avoiding bloodshed is a kindness this world rarely offers."
The robed man has expressive eyes so enormous and bulging, his equally large and puffy lids seem to be just barely holding on.
He helps the lizardfolk to its feet, and follows Mayze out of the ring.
He nearly bumps into her repeatedly distracted by "Ooooh and Ahhh" moments in Zazz's performance.
"He is not of the slaver tribes, but I was a fool to think the locals would appreciate that distinction. I've been trying to earn gold - enough for us to continue our travels - healing with my magic stick for coin, but my heart has always had trouble saying no to the penniless in need."
Calvarot enters Wugthorts, keeping one eye on the drunks within, and one eye on the door.
A small part of him is grateful there's a stool he can rest his butt on, but that small part is quickly consumed by his brutish paranoia.
Something could go sour very well happen within the next immediate moment, and he's been through that scenario too many times...
"'Tender, you got anything other than 'droid oil in here?"
The shopkeep moves from peering out the door. "Droid oil? Everything but! By the bottle or flask only I fear, my good man. The bulk of my wares are meant for the man on the go." His gaze moves to-
A customer (bearded, burlap tunic, and galoshes) who interjects with drunken drawl "I'll sssell ya a coppers worth....", wipes his mouth and bottle top.
Though there are a couple bottle-swiggers here, Wugthorts appears to be more of a supply store. Half of the shelves are filled with packaged "kits", and trail rations. One sign by the rations posts several claims about the quality of the ingredients, and offers "recipe" suggestions (which appear to mostly be different ways to apply heat).
Draught follows the others into Wuthorts, surveying the room. She walks up to the bar and places a few copper on the table. If the bartender asks her what she wants, she will stare at him and say "Alcohol, please." After getting whatever he gives her, she will join the group at the table they've assumedly procured.
Zazz will perform however long the audience seems entertained-It's better to create a good impression of us on the non-related. Once it dies down Zazz will join up at Wuthorts.
"Mhmm." The shopkeep grabs the closest bottle, slides it to Draught then nods. He wanders toward the open doorway, and speaks - seeming to be directing his words toward Calvarot.
"Odd sort of fellow out there, yes eh?. All the same... nice to see a happening in the ring what turns up a crowd to my door, without turning their stomachs away, yes? Mhmm ha ha ... ahem."
Once Zazz enters... "Ah there he is. Quite a show, my good man."
"Daresay. Most who've made attempts to quell the crass antics of those ill-mannered brutes out there... only give them reason to bless us with a longer stay. Like that old fool trying to appeal to their ... humanity. So. What can I get for you? What's your pleasure?"
"And if I may add" He looks across all of you. His tiny double-teardrop mustache stretches thin as he smiles wide. "I do entertain trades in lieu of gold. One man's trash is worth a haggle, yes eh?"
In addition to the packaged kits and rations, bottles and flasks, and sparse cafe-style dining, there is mundane survival gear, simple weapons, bows, crossbows, arrows, and bolts.
There is a round of cheers, and applause from a dozen townies who'd gathered to watch the show... including a couple militia. One guard even gave Zazz a "fraternal pat" on the shoulder as he entered Wugthort's.
"Just give me something hard."
Calvarot eyes the shelves, just counting. It's sort of a habit of his.
He does it often to get his mind off of more anxious things, and he'll count just about anything. Boxes, rations, houses, horses, guards, bodies, heads...
It helps him calm down.
"Mayze, do we need anything from here?"
He gestures to the preserved foods and odds-and-ends lining the wall.
"I'll also take that round you offered."
As the bartender brings whatever fell mead he would, Calvarot gestures to the elf-blooded lass in a very obvious and gruff 'put it on her tab' sort of mannerism.
Whatevers easy and cheap is fine. It's been a while since I put on a show, I dare say I need a good sit down. It was enjoyable."
Zazz will sit down with the rest of them.
"Well you're a strangely kind man in a dangerously harsh world. If that's the truth I'm glad me and my amiko made the scene we did. If this is just some clever scheme to do me and mine harm me and my other friend will gladly beat you to death...but if I can be honest I'd rather we not need to. Makes a right terrible mess."
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Draught turns to the old man and the lizardfolk.
"Why were those men trying to harm you? Have you done something to offend them? I often offend humans without intending to do so."
"I'll have a beer, or the closest you have."
Tomin sits with the others, specifically placing himself where he can see the most of the room at one time.
The shopkeeper trades a large bottle of ragweed ale for Tomin's coins.
The robed man adjusts the lizardfolk's hood to make him less noticeable, then answers.
"Nothing in particular really. I've heard those fellows are from north of here. A place called Fort Windscar. They seem to be burdened with narrow opinions toward any of a non-human race. And my traveling companion... he is the furthest thing from human here."
Calvarot sizes up the lizardfolk and the robed man as he sits by, swigs alcohol, and listens as their conversation unfolds with his companions.
"I am also not human, though I suppose I look much more human than your friend. Do these men often attack humanoids unprovoked? Perhaps it would be helpful to remove them? Would those in the town be grateful if such a thing was performed?"
The robed man shrugs, and looks to the Shopkeeper, who fields the question after a quick look around.
"Attack? Rarely. General harassment is more the norm. Removal...."
The shopkeep shakes his head.
"I do not see that happening. They have connections, and could level this place if they truly wished." He then waves dismissively. "Don't worry... they only come through here once a week at most. It is not as troublesome as it would appear."
The robed man sighs, raises a flask... "Here's to hoping I can make enough coin to get us back on the road again before they return."
He lifts the wand which had been tucked in his robes. "Don't suppose any of you are in need of magical healing?"
A somber bearded man (you soon hear referred to as Captain Timney) and Bergen Lachlan (the leader of Okorn Spring) order drinks at the "townie" bar inside Enid Burr's Inn. Enid is a enthusiast of the culture which prevailed among early noble metal prospectors in the lands to the west - before greater society's collapse. The decor and fare (and her few regulars) are all of or replicas of that world.
In your short time here, Enid has seemed to take a liking to you. You see her speaking with the two men, she frowns concerned.... then "Fella over there's a good man. Want me to see if he can help find your--"
Bergen hushes her.... He then looks back to you, and nods. They speak more - and more quietly. Enid stands, shakes her head. "I got a stake in this, and this is my home."
Bergen then says which you barely hear "Fine, Enid. Gather your men discreetly Mr Timney, if you would."
Enid walks over to you with a wink. She is not terribly attractive, but has the type of personality to handle that - enjoying the "fun" of flirting and crass language while both parties know it's not going anywhere.
"Can I get you something? ... on the house." She leans in "Think I mighta got you in on a good payin' job."
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Wondering if either of the other men will approach him, or he has to walk over to them, the gunslinger pushes his hat back and lights a cigarillo. Let's see about this job, then.
Captain Timney leaves to "gather his men". Bergen Lachlan stands, and says to Enid "We'll take this area over here, Miss Burr. And sir? If you care to join us...."
He offers his hand to Araden. "Bergen Lachlan."
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Captain Timney finds the others as they are finishing their drinks at Wugthort's. The shopkeep and robed man wander off after Timney broadcasts a desire for privacy with a pair of looks.
"Think I got something worthwhile if you care to make some coin. Bergen Lachlan... the town leader, has a job. Good pay, but we'd need to head out soon. He'd like to meet with you now. Rusty Palomino... up on the Slab."
"Goodbye, Ah do comment if that lot causes a stir again and we'll refer anyone who needs your services to you" Zazz calls out to the departing new acquantances.
Zazz will nod-after all coin is coin- and wait for the others to begin shuffling forward to follow behind them.
Setting the drink back down with a nod and hat-tip to the bartender, Araden walks over to the town's leader and shakes his hand. "Araden. They call me Wanderborn, seeing as I move around plenty, probably traveled farther than anybody around. What can I do you for?"
The robed man notices the [wand] catching the eye of Tomin. (and a hint of desperation as he sees the group on their way out.)
"If any of you have the gift, good citizens, I would be willing to sell it to you. 225 gold is what I'd need for it." He looks to the hooded lizardfolk...
"That would clear our debt, and get us what we need to resume our journey."
Tomin looks to the group.
"If we each put up 37g 5s we could share the wand and I or others can use it on anyone in need."
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