[FURY] Pike's Market (Gates1.0)

scott

Gates

Pike's market. Merchant's Row.

Rei cradles her injured arm in a sling of simple white. She walks to your left side, her limp is improving and she's managed to painfully keep up. Rei wants to hold your hand, do you let her? Jones and Bobblehead to the right carry your package wrapped up in plastic. What are you selling today? To whom?

The big market known as Pike’s is a good walk from SafeCo, and not without danger. But the good lord must be on your side as you’ve almost always managed to make the trip without incident. You’ve never lost a life, that’s saying something. And the storm that raged all night broke up at dawn just as you were readying to hit the trail.

The rest of the flock walk in an orderly group behind you, well, all but young Ghost, who keeps making excuses to stay behind. The six of them keep some distance as you’ve found that arriving in too great a number can make buyers feel uneasy. Even so, you get more than your fair share of looks, people come here from all around and you still manage to stand out even if you're not really trying to.

You come here to Pike’s often, don’t you, Gates? What do you find here that’s missing a SafeCo? At the same time. Why can’t you let the flock call this place home?

What do you do?

toddnicholas

First, rolling fortunes....

(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 2. Total: 9)

toddnicholas

As poor Rei holds her hand out to me I shoot her a cold look. I like Rei. I do. But she's done somethin' wrong and she ain't gonna get back in my good graces quite that easy.

Sides. She ain't her.

I do put my hand on her bum shoulder, though. Gentle like. I care, I just ain't one for... intimate gestures.

Lookin' around at Pike Place always fills me with a sense of purpose. It was so... dead when we got here. Rotted wood, flooded out, rats everywhere. I spose it's still got all those things, but we've done a lot to fix it up.

When the Lord wants you to work, the Lord will put the work in front of you. Well, the Lord put Pike in front of us and we chose to be righteous and follow his gentle suggestion that we get ourselves to sweatin'.

Sometimes I think of just movin' the whole lot of us here, but this is a place of commerce and, therefore, it comes with a soak much worse than rotted wood. The Lord, after all, cleansed the temple of the moneychangers. The Lord also broke bread with hookers, though, so he wasnna sayin' not to fraternize with sinful folks. Just make sure you know what roof yer under when the rains come.

Jones and Bobblehead drop the box in one of our stalls and open it up. I whistle. "Y'all did some fine work, here. Must've been heavy to carry over."

Inside are wooden carvings. Crosses, buildings, landmarks, animals, anything you can name. Idle hands are the devil's playground. Our hands ain't ne'er idle.

scott

Gates

Rei is dissaponted, tries not to show it but she can't help but turn her gaze down to the earth. But you put a soft smile on her face with your touch of the shoulder. She winces like it hurts, but touches the back of your hand softly with the fingers of her other hand. Only for a moment.

The market is a long, airy structure, fortified here and there with slabs of concrete from one of the fallen parking structures downtown, and with sheets of plastic over the many skylights which collect little pools of candy-red water that hang ominously over your heads. You've done good work fixing the place up with new floor boards, a good cleaning of the most public spaces, and Millions is happy to trade you the stall space for the good work of your flock.

Jones and Bobblehead open the stall, set out your wares in a quiet, respectful manner. You must be proud how your people keep themselves. Clean, crisp, clothed with respect. Only hints of red from the evening's rain at the hems of skirts and trousers.

"The lord gave me a back to carry the weight and wisdom enough to follow the path you set before me," answers Jones. Bobblehead isn't quite so talkative, and silently goes about his work.

"What is this shit supposed to be?" comments a passer-by. Stopping for a couple seconds to look at your wares. One of those hunters who you wouldn't want to run into on the open road... you can tell by the colorful string of bounties clipped to his collar. Little strips of cloth taken as trophies from the kill. A hunter of men.

He'll probably just move on but Rei is looking at him with anger in her eyes.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

Sitting back a ways from Jones and Bobblehead, I stare at the man long and hard. Hunting people ain't much of a hobby as far as I'm concerned. What's this man's game?

"Everything all right, sir?" I ask politely.

(I'm also reading a person on the hunter. (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 4)

scott

Gates

He looks at you, eyes first, and slowly like there's something welling up inside him. "Sir?" He scoffs, "do I look unit?"

Of course he means the pseudo military that holds out in pockets. Love them or hate them, SeaTac hails from one of those units.

The guy picks up one of your carved crosses, the kind with a base that you'd stand up for prayer. His voice drops, deep and gravely, "you think this rot can save you?" You can tell the wrong words will bring violence.

Gates, you hold one to read a person even on the miss.

Jones looks at you, his mouth half-open like he wants to say something but he can sense the danger, too and defers to you.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

"Frankly, I don't think any piece of wood can save anyone..."

Read a person question: How can I get your character to leave without violence?

scott

Gates
A moment passes, he holds the carving in one hand, sets it loudly back on the stall without letting go. he grasps it tight in his hand, turning his head slowly from you back to Jones and Bobblehead standing behind the counter. The corner of his mouth curls upwards like he's about to say something provocative to the children of yor flock.

The guy's a bounty hunter, a killer, perhaps. You can see that he's had run-ins with Unit forces out there and there's something he can't forgive. He'll calm down if you show him that you know what it means to survive. Show him your scars, show him that he's not the only one who hurts... show him that these idols did fail you. Then he'll know you understand what he has to do.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

I've met folks like this before. They've got it hard, like most of us, and they get caught up in their own bitterness. Want to take it out on folks they think got it better then them or easier than them.

I can sympathize. I was that way once.

They also tend to confuse faith fer the trappins of faith, too. My faith ain't a cross. A cross is just a trinket. My faith is in my bones and my blood. My faith is my community. Maybe I can help him understand that.

As he curls up his mouth, I stand up and walk towards him, rollin' up my sleeve to reveal that deep scar on my arm. "Like I was sayin', I was wearin' a wooden cross when this happened to me a bunch o' years back. Some soaked fools wanted some food I had. I told 'em I'd share and one of 'em went ahead and did this anyway, machete right to the arm. It's a wonder I can still use my hand."

I open the collar of my shirt.

"Even worse? I was wearin' that same wooden cross when someone tried to slit my throat. They didn't get too far across it before I elbowed them in their gut and got out of there, but you can still make the scar here. Never found out what their beef was. Maybe they just wanted to be hard. Who knows, with some folk."

I pick up the cross the man was holding.

"My people and I, we make things o' wood. If they bring something to yer life, then you can have 'em. If not, then off you go, none for the worse. But I'm living proof that things o' wood never saved no one from nothing."

I smash the cross against the table.

"After all, we both know that wood is only a little less delicate than flesh."

scott

Gates

The guy watches you, looks skeptical as you show your scars, but when you smash the cross his face turns to a broad grin. He laughs a deep laugh, mouth wide with plenty of teeth.



"You're all right, my friend! The name's Fortyfour," he suddenly claps a hand on your back between the shoulders and roughly holds a handful of your coat. He's strong.

"I'm taking the old man here for a drink." He announces to the others, who look more than a little concerned for your safety. Rei takes a half a step like she wants to do something.

Wondering, Gates. Do you keep weapons at the stall? No reason. Just asking.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

Weapons? Yeah, we keep some in the stall. Nothing organized. Folks just have their own items for protection. I often have a knife on me, other folks usually do. Hammers and knives are part of the business. One or two of the family carries a gun. I don't care for them much myself, but it's a dangerous world out there and I ain't about to tell someone what they can't do to protect themselves.

I chuckle as Fortyfour offers to take me for a drink. "That sounds mighty friendly of you."

Turning to the folks in the stall I say "Y'all go ahead and keep on in my brief absence while I drink with Fortyfour, here. Oh yeah... and that little lamb figurine we lost? Keep an eye out for it. Gotta be around here somewhere."

That there's code. They'll know what it means. When a lamb goes missing from it's flock, it's shepherd goes looking for it. I'm tellin' 'em to keep an eye out for me. Nothin' intrusive or obvious. Just maybe do a walk-by here and there to make sure I'm still breathin'. Fortyfour seems like he ain't too far gone to be immune to all reasoning, but who wants to take that risk?

scott

Gates
"We'll keep an eye out for it," says Jones softly, not even a hint on his face that it's a code. Rei gingerly holds her injured arm with the other hand as you walk away, Fortyfour's hand still firmly holding the back of your jacket as you go but once you've taken a doxen steps or so he slowly relaxes his grip and his hand returns to his side.

He's armed, couple of guns you can see, well worn armor vest, scar along his jawline you can still see through his beard.

He leads you to one of the 'shine stalls at the North end. Places get busy on clear nights, people come to drink be seen, sing and piss out on the road, then leave in pairs or threes... or alone.

But the place is near empty at this hour and he walks right in, pulls a seat from a small table as he passes and goes to the bar. The sleepy-looking barkeep either knows Fortyfour or fears him cause he steps out of the way and Fortyfour takes a bottle of something deep amber in color and two glasses before returning the table.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

I nod at the bottle and say "Looks alright to me." A pause, and then "So tell me about yerself, Fortyfour."

scott

Gates

Fortyfour walks over, roughly pulls out a chair for himself with a foot and sits heavily. He sets the glasses down, opens the bottle and pours two glasses with one motion. Then he picks one up and holds it in front of his face, pausing for you to hold your glass.

"You know what your problem is, old man?" He asks rhetorically, "you never tell no soaking fools you'll share what's yours. Makes you weak. Makes you prey." He glances down at your arm. "You got a reminder of that now."

He eyes the glass, maybe you've taken it by now. He raises his a bit and brings it to his lips without looking away from your face.

Maybe he'll tell you about himself after.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

I drink from my cup the same way, never taking my eyes off of him.

"You ain't wrong, you ain't wrong. But sometimes sharin' is what keeps you alive. I believe that in my bones. There's a time for fightin' and there's a time for givin' and both will serve you well in the end. Our Lord said both that he came to bring a sword to the world and also that the peacemakers, well, they're the blessed ones. I think that's pretty good cover fer the idea that both fightin' and sharin' have a place in the world."

I lean in, just a little bit, and look him in the eye.

"Ain't no one ever shared nothin' with ya, Fortyfour? Ain't no one ever shared their food or their bounty, or at least told ya the good news? That you've got somethin' to live fer in this world? That there are folks who might care if ya live or die?"

toddnicholas

I'm seducing, with which I roll plus weird.

(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 6. Total: 14)

scott

Gates
Fortyfour waits for you to drink, and drinks at the same moment, locked eyes the whole time. You can tell your words are getting to him, his facade of bravado fades a bit, his false toothy grin fades and he's really listening to you. Probably the first time he's really listened to anyone in some time.
"I live because I gotta live..." he finally says, almost has to blink himself free of your gaze once you stop talking. But you can tell it's more than that. There's pain behind his mask, pain he never shares. "Somebody gotta keep on living. Someobody gotta remember."

Gates, seduction as a move is using sex to get what you want. Want to make sure that's the intention here. What do you want from him? What are you offering? Let's clarify before we move on.

toddnicholas

Good question: I have fucking whacknut (think that's it. Don't have the sheet in front of me) which means I S/M with weird. I interpret this as meaning that the Hocus is less "sexy" and more "Hocusy" in their S/M. I'm trying to get Fortyfour around to my way of thinking. Hell, if he joined up, that'd be great. If you think that's more "manipulate" than seduce, I'm happy to go with that.

scott

Gates
Hey Gates, you can tell you've got in this guys head, on his good side. I have to admit, he's not exactly the kind of guy I picture belonging to a family such as yours, but you've got his attention. And got his ear.

What do you want him to do?

toddnicholas

I pour the next two shots as Fortyfour trails off.

"Those are true words, my friend. Somebody's gotta remember. I agree. You called me old man. Those are true words, too. I'm older'n most. And I because of that I got a long memory. I remember cities when the lights still sometimes worked. Just barely, when I was a little scrapper. I remember the faces of everyone who I've ever cared fer that's gone on past the gates o' slumber. Some well, other's gettin' foggy with years.

That's a lot o' rememberin' for one human brain. And I hope to spread just a little bit of what I've learned in that time to folks, maybe keep the fire alive in this dead world a little longer."

I take that drink.

"See, you seem like a hard one Fortyfour. I get that. But like I said, flesh and wood only last so long. Some folks, like my family, carve wood. Other folks, hard folks, they carve flesh."

I lean in.

"Me? I carve souls, Fortyfour. You can build a roof over that."

I sit back in my chair.

"Why don't you come hang fer a while. Not fer you, you can leave like it wasn't a thing. No harm done, no offense taken. But if you find it to your likin', well, you'll see, then. You'll see."

scott

Gates
"You're older then you look," he finally says, taking both glasses again and refilling them as the barkeep watches silently, almost afraid to move.

"You ain't afraid of me... never was, huh?" He scoffs, shakes his head slightly with a little smile. "I ain't looking to carve wood. Old man. But..." He stares thoughtfully past you, through you like there's something in the distance. "You got something I ain't got in your eyes..." A slow, thoughtful nod. "I could use a bit of that."

He nods like it's decided in his mind, raises his glass.

"For a while... for a while... drink on it."

What do you do?

toddnicholas

I smile and hold up my glass.

"To findin' the fire in your eyes, Fortyfour. I can't promise we'll find it, but sure as it rains we're gonna look."

I down the drink and pound the glass on the table with a thud.

"How about we walk back to our stall and you can tell me a lil' more about yerself. I can introduce you to some of the fam. They're good folks. After that, I might need ta go talk to some of the big sticks about finding' us some work"

scott

Gates
You finish your drink and walk back over to the stall. You pass Bobblehead who was quietly keeping an eye on the table from a distance. He looks at you for a sign that you're all right then shadows you back as you walk.

Fortyfour walks like a man determined. Head slightly down, usually wearing a grin showing teeth. His hand hovers near this weapon or that like he's always expecting trouble. Maybe just a habit. Maybe he has reason.

You find Rei waiting for you, she looks relieved to see you, less relieved to see him. "I trust you had a fruitful conversation?" She asks.

"You all right, Gates? We don't want any trouble, friend," adds Jones from behind the stall. Hs hands are out of sight, probably has a weapon ready, just in case.

What do you do?

toddnicholas

I chuckle at Jones' question.

"Course I'm all right, Jones. And yes, Rei, we did, in fact, have a fruitful conversation. Now circle up, fam."

I wait for them to congregate around me. Rei, Jones, Bobblehead, QuePasa and Utilikilt, who have also arrived.

"Our friend Fortyfour here is interested in spendin' a bit of time with us, seein' how we make our way through the world. He seems like a man who knows what's what and I say we do our best to keep him nice and dry while he congregates with us. Can I get an amen to that?"

After a trepidatious "amen," I continue.

"So y'all can keep on sellin' the wares here fer a little bit, right? I might head down to SafeCo and see if anyone got some workin' fer us to keep our hands busy with and keep the rain off our heads. Fortyfour? You want to come with and we can continue our chat, n' you can get a sense o' what we're about?"

If Fortyfour wants to come with, I'll have QuePasa join us. If Fortyfour don't, I'll bring Jones with me.

QuePasa is perceptive, faithful, and hard as a hot downpour. I want her wherever Fortyfour is for now...

scott

Gates
You make plans, give instructions to the flock. The flock has grown enough that you're not needed always. That's good. Gives you time for what needs doing. Those things you can't yet, or won't ever trust to the others. Or just maybe some time for youself.

You can feel some tension, though. Particularly Rei, who quite deliberately moves to the other side of you so she doesn't have to stand with Fortyfour. Fortyfour, for his part, says a few begrudging words of greeting to the others.

"Change of scenery would do me good," he agrees. "meaning to see SafeCo again, been some time." He seems to be summing up the others, you can follow his eye flickering between them, the women in particular.

But then he slwoly turns his head towards a conspicuously well dressed woman who happens to be passing by... a bit of a solemn expression on her face, perhaos.

You know her of course. Vignette. She looks troubled, perhaps. Which probably isn't unusual for her. Looks like she came al this way alone.

What do you do?

We can open a new thread if needed.

toddnicholas

"Actually, gimme just one or two minutes before we head out to SafeCo. Gotta check up on somethin'..."

I turn to follow after Vignette.

I say new thread.

scott

Gates,

Please head here, Crossing Paths.