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[Fury] Honest Work (Gates 3.0)
Gates,
A week has passed since the Harbor went asunder. The storm lasted until the morning and skies have been clear since. There are rumors of a red sickness in Safeco, people are scared, clustering together in small groups, afraid to share water.
HM asked if you and yours could stay near Safeco and help him build "nice places" for his people to live and work in, including beds and furniture. He offered a couple Barter for the work and also offered you something that reminds you of times past. What was the little present he offered you, and what does it remind you of, Gates?
Please roll your Fortunes. If you did HM's work, take a +1. If you refused it, take a -1.
Comments
I thought long and hard about the work HM offered us. On the one hand, the family needs work to keep dry. What's more, just cause folks work for HM don't mean they don't deserve a roof over their heads. But that man... I don't like takin' his jingle and I don't like associatin' with him.
Nonetheless, I'm proud o' the work we done to put stuff together for his people. Sometimes in a bad situation' you do the best you can with what you got.
But the thing he gave me. Gives me pause. A wooden cross on a string necklace. His face betrayed nothin' but it felt like a threat. Eliza had one jus' like it, I swear. Same grain in the wood and everythin'. I would bet my life it was the exact same one. HM ain't so old that he could have been involved in what happened to her, but could he have come across it? Or is my mind just playin' tricks on me?
Either way, now that we're done takin' care of HM's business, I should probably find WotCee, see if I can give him that talkin' to I'm s'pose to.
Rolling fortunes
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 5)
Your flock works hard on building for HM, using materials Admiral people provides, from metal to recently chopped wood from the forest. QuePasa is not happy about building the beds for uses of flesh for barter, and she's gotten Jones and Fremont both to say a few words of displeasure. How have you been keeping your people focused on the work and not the result?
Also, Utilikilt and Easy have been getting sick lately. Started with a cough, now they're sweating buckets and let's call their cough "productive", you know what I mean?
What do you do?
I had been halfheartedly tellin' the family that it's okay we're doin' what we're doin' because folks need a place to lay their head, regardless o' who they are and what they do.
That's true.
But still, QuePasa and Jones and Fremont are all right. It's one thing to build it. It's another thing to take the 30 pieces o' silver for dishonest labor.
I sit and stare at the jingle HM gave us. Man can we use it. We ain't sold much lately on account of us runnin' around. But we can't keep this. It's ain't right. So I take the least possible to keep us functionin' and then give the rest to QuePasa, Jones, and Fremont. Tell 'em to go find anyone they can who needs a bite, a coffee, a cot, whatever, and spread it around. A little here, a little there. Ill gotten gain turned for good. That's the way it should be.
As for Utilikilt and Easy, well, I'm not one to think the Lord punishes folks in such an obvious way, but I'd be lyin' if I didn't say it sort of occurred to me that right as we took HM's dirty money, two o' the fam start coughin' and sweatin'. Like I said, it ain't me to think such things, but it sure don't feel like coincidence.
Part o' me wants to run and get Bon, but that poor woman's got enough to think about. Part o' me wants to let Ghost show some learnin' but I don't want the kid gettin' sick.
I need the Lord's intervention, here, I think.
Askin' for the Lord's guidance. Openin' my brain to His voice.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 6. Total: 9)
Gates
The lord speaks in words, and vision... you feel faint and slighlty dizzy...
You stand in a stream bed. Bare feet astride rounded pebbles and stones… just loose and slick enough that you can’t quite be sure of where you stand. Red runs around you in little rivulets and ripples. The stream comes from somewhere far ahead and laps at your unsteady toes. And when you turn your head the stream goes on forever behind as well… no end to it.
In both hands you hold your flock, dangling, clinging to your fingers and crying for your help… if you drop them they’ll be swept away by the stream. If you fall.
Don’t even think about that Gates. You can’t let yourself fall.
Who are you, Gates? Will you carry them along the stream, along this never-ending path as they cling to you? Or will you set them down and somehow teach them to walk on their own despite the danger? To follow on their own feet, or find their own way?
Should you take the money? Nobody can tell you that… does money matter to the eternal? Teach your children the lessons you wish them to learn before you set them down. That’s pretty much it. Shiny jingle in hand, Gates… they’re watching. Right? What will you teach them?
Suddenly a firm hand on your shoulder startles you back to now. “Brother, it’s time to go to market,” couple of the flock head to the growers to pick up food for everyone. Sometimes they make the trip to Pike’s. “I’ll take ‘em to Pikes today. It’d be good to get everyone something filling ‘fore that cough starts getting worse. Do we have enough to trade?”
What do you do?
I shake my head as Fortyfour snaps me out of my communion.
"Sounds good, friend. I hear 'ya."
I reach into my pocket and pull out some jingle.
Does money matter to the eternal?
I look at it in my hand. The words of the Lord fill my head.
Behold the birds of the air: for they sow not, nor do they reap. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable to the Lord than they?
As always, the Lord guides my way. If I mean anythin' to the family I have to be the best I can be. Let go of fear, let go of greed, embrace righteousness.
Handing the jingle to Fortyfour I say "Take this with ya to Pike and get whatever we need to keep the family fed and healthy."
Givin' some barter to Fortyfour. Spendin' 1. Let me know if I'll need more.
"I'll get it done," the big man says with a gravely assurance and you know he will. Fortyfour has been a quiet presence in the flock the last few days. He seems a little distracted, like his whole self isn't here. Despite his rough exterior, he's sat with the others and done what's asked. He's not great with his hands and he can lose patience but he's strong and the last to retire most nights. It seems like he's watching out for everyone.
One barter should be enough to provide for the family's basic needs.
QuePasa, Jones and Freemont, meanwhile, take the rest of the jingle you've provided and go out to find something worthwhile to do with it. Spread good will, so to speak. Seems like there's always someone willing to take a handout. Less often someone who appreciates it.
Going to find WotCee, then, Gates? By yourself? The raffter kids are well... kids. But they can be rough... you know. They have to live, too, right? Most of them aren't lucky enough to have homes to go back to when things get bad.
What do you do?
Yeah, as long as Fortyfour is takin' care o' things here, I'll tell QuePasa she's in charge soon as she gets back from spreadin' the goodwill around and head off to find WotCee. And yes, by my lonesome.
Gates
You walk around the long curved hall through SafeCo towards the front gate. The rafter kids kind of hang out in the girders and hidden places up above SafeCo. It's a treacherous place... a dangerous life. They pretty much make do my stealing bits and pieces where they can, or doing odd jobs.. or a little of both.
How are you going to find WotCee? You've been around, Gates. So you must know some of the rafter kids by now, right? Who is always happy to see you and where do you meet up?
I catch Evergreen's eye and she breaks away from her friends to come runnin' over to me. She's a good kid. Can't be more than 8 or 10, and she looks like she's been to hell n' back a few times, but fer some odd reason she just took a shine to me first time we met. She's real inquisitive like, and I just assume she likes that I talk about the world with her. My guess is not a lot o' folks older than their teens do. It also doesn't hurt that she likes to collect little trinkets and I got no shortage o' those.
In fact, I knew she'd have to be my eyes o'er here, so I came prepared. As she runs over, I pull a tiny little wooden carving out o' my pocket. It's a little cat. Not my best work, but I think Evergreen will like it.
"Well fancy seein' you here, young lady," I say, holdin' out the carving. "Got something for ya, if ya want it. Out o' curiosity, you know a kid named WotCee?"
Gates
Evergreen scrambles down the angled girder, the girl has amazing balance, and she's wrapped bits of cloth around her palms to keep any sharp edges she has to grab from cutting. Even so she's got a big scrape along her right arm and a new bruise. Must have taken a tumble.
You feel the gaze of couple other kids up in the dark latticework overhead. Some kind fo quiet, suspicious whisper that seems to spread.
"Big brotha Gates!" Evergreen hits the ground and rushes over, her bare feet pit-patting on the concrete. She slows and stops at arm's lengh to raise her face and look at what you've got for her.
"Izzit for me?" She asks as she takes it delicately from your hand and holds it right up close to her eyes to look. For a moment she ignores your question and you're not sure that she heard you. But Evergreen's always listening and suddenly she anwers.
"Ainti one'a the new boys?" She answers with a nod. A little glance over a shoulder up at the rafters overhead. Like she doesn't want them to hear. The kitty carving is suddenly gone. In a pocket or something without a trace and accepted without a word as fair trade.
What do you do?
Smart kid, as always, she is.
I kneel down to get more on her level and speak quietly.
"Thanks, Green. I'd be interested in jabberin' with WotCee, just fer a few minutes. How would someone like me make that happen?"
Also, gonna to go ahead and read a sitch.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 6. Total: 9)
What should I be lookin' out fer?
The rafter kids don't like nosey adults bugging them, and Evergreen's probably going to get in some trouble if she shows you where to find WotCee. Their safety is in their secrecy and stealth and that's a big no-no for the Rafter kids. She could be punished. You feel them watching.... her as much as you.
Gates
Evergreen nibbles her lip and glances again over her shoulder, "he ain't much'a nothing, big brother Gates. Why you wanna talk to a little newbie dripper like that kid? Ain't I your best girl?"
She pokes herself in the chest with her thumb and looks up at you with big hopeful eyes which beg for one of your stories.
What do you do?
I smile warmly at her and speak quietly. "Course you are, Green. Tell you what, I do gotta talk to WotCee, but I don't want to take up any o' yer time here. Why don'tcha come find me when you can peel away for a minute. I'll tell you a story and we can chat a bit about the other kid. Sound good, Green?"
Gates
Evergreen didn't seem to sense the danger from her peers and looks a little bit disappointed that you're going. But she smiles and giggles, "izza date! I'll come and findya no sweat!"
"Hey ol'man Gates! Flow outta here unless you got shiny to share!" Calls one of the kids from above. Evergreen winces a bit, hurries away with a wink.
Unless you've got plans we can zoom to when she comes to find you?
Hmmm... Tryin' to think o' somewhere not too difficult fer Evergreen to come meet me. I would say I'll be hangin' around Val's place as long as we're at Safeco. Anywhere by there should be fine. And no, nothin' else to do until I chat with her.
The Yacht Club
Gates
You sit at one of the tables along the entry to the Yacht club. Where you can be easily seen. The enticing scent of coffee and good food hangs in the air as a handful of customers come and go. You catch a glimpse of Harbormaster as he lingers near the bar at the center of the place. He's watching you, as usual. And as usual he's pretending not to.
Harbormaster's blood tear boys and girls pretty much know you're not a thing, but as you sit and wait for Evergreen, Boeing stops at your tableside and slides a fresh cup of Valentine's best onto the table for you. "Something special for you. On me."
Boeing smiles and sighs quietly before slowly turning to walk away. You can see that he's abruptly left someone sitting at another table to visit you. Even so, he lingers at your tableside and slowly traces a finger across the edge of the table as he goes.
You can tell he wants you to invite him to stay.
What do you do?
Hmmm.
"Thanks fer the coffee, friend. You know, I'm waitin' fer someone, Boeing, but we can certainly chat in the meantime. Somethin' on yer mind?"
Continuing to ignore the man at the table he left, Boeing sits down beside you. "Who are you waiting for, Gates?" He smiles, a twinkle in his eye, "A ladyfriend?"
"Well, no, not exactly. Just someone I haffta speak with. How are you doin', Boeing? Things treating you well?
Boeing shifts a bit in his seat, looks at the table, "I'm... I'm not doing super great at the moment, Gates. HM's not happy with me." He licks his pretty lips, breathes out once, shoulders slumped slightly. "Can I sleep with someone in your flock? You may choose, whoever you like. It would... it would help." His tone sounds like he expects a "no", but he's desperate for something.
I raise an eyebrow at his request. "Well, I'm afraid, friend, that that would be up to them and not me. I ain't HM, so I tend not to just give people out like that. That sorta thing is up to them."
I pause, thinking.
"Havin' said that, I do get the predicament yer in. HM is not someone you want to be on the bad side of, so I see how it can get you to the point where yer askin' me questions like that. Listen, Boeing, I ain't givin' you one o' the family like that, but what could I do that could help? Don't want ya t' get in trouble with HM."
Boeing sits back, defeat in his eyes. "Gates... I need this. HM wants me in your group, and he doesn't believe I can really know you unless we're scrogging. What if? What if I just move on one of yours, and if they like me, you don't step in? I mean... it's not so bad, right? Or..." he pauses, looks over towards HM's table, "Kiss me? That would be enough. For a while." He reaches a hand over across the table.
What do you do?
"You know, Judas betrayed the Lord wit' a kiss, or so the story goes. But to be honest, I've always felt folks give Judas a bit o' a bad rap. I mean, the way I see it, the Lord had to die fer all our sins on the cross, right? That means the Lord needed someone to turn him in. I've always thought that Judas was a nice little meditation on evil. See, some folks are gonna do bad. Thy just are. It's how folks is. But good can come outta folks doin' bad. If Judas hadn't turned in the Lord, he wouldn'ta died on the cross, and we'd be carryin' all our own sins without His help. In other words, even the wicked have a part to play."
I lean over and give Boeing a lil' kiss on the cheek. Nothin' passionate, just enough for HM to see.
"Especially when they realize they done wrong, like Judas did, and repent. You still got time, friend. Consider that kiss a downpayment on yer soul."
Boeing turns into the kiss, not actually kissing more than a brush of lips, but from HM's angle, it looks like more than it was, for sure. He hovers near, eyes on yours, a little smile. "You're a savior, Gates. Thanks. Thanks." He reaches over to touch your left hand, then slips back, smiling still, starts to leave.
Behind him you see the quizzical look of Evergreen. She just walked up, saw that weird display. She's still puzzling it out when Boeing leaves. "Hey there, Big Brother Gates. Got me a line on WotCee. Wanna feed me while I tell ya 'bout it?"
You spot Needle walking up from behind Evergreen. He meets your eyes, silently asking if the rotter is bothering you.
What do you do?
"Hi there, Greenie, have a seat and we'll chat. Needle, can we get my friend here somethin' to eat, on me?"
I push the chair out for her to sit. "So what do ya have to tell me, friend?"
Gates,
Evergreen sits in the seat, looking up at you in a way she doesn't seem to like. She then sits up on her knees in the seat, little more your level. She leans forward to speak to you in a hushed and hasty whisper.
"There's a thing going on with'im," she looks around out of instinct. Same thing she was doing outside but here there's not much chance they're watching.
"WotCee's gotta gun... tryin' to get everyone to back him up. He's gonna go to Pike and clean up house!" She gets excited and almost shouts, turning a couple heads. She blushes and sinks back into her chair a little bit, quietly explaining, "that's... that's what he said."
What do you do?
Hmmm. That don't sound good.
Maintaining my composure I say "That sounds pretty drastic. Do you know why he would want to go do a thing like that?
Evergreen nods and smiles like she knows a secret and for a second it looks like she's going to make you press her. But then Needle sets a small plate of food on the table between you.
Evergreen doesn't hesitate. She takes a handfull of sliced tomato and bread and shoves it in her mouth and chews. She probably hasn't had a good meal in some time.
"He was cryin'bout how his poppa got kilt by that scary-scary spider lady... sayin he's gonna put a bullet in her crazy brain. You know? So the other kids say he's fulla rot and well. WotCee says 'nuh-uh' he's gotta gun and he's gonna do it for sure!" she bites another bit of bread, talking through it. "So the boys say show me and it's true! He ain't lyin! He gots it!"
She finally swallows and takes a breath.
"So he's gonna do it!"
What do you do?
"Well, I don't doubt he's gonna, Green. Thanks for tellin' me. I do appreciate it. You don't happen to know when he's gonna be headin' out to make things happen, do ya?"
Also, gonna read Green, just to be safe.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 7)
Evergreen just shakes her head, "soon, that's all I know. Since the spiderr lady took over he gets madder and madder!"
Have a read question?
What does Green wish I'd do?
The girl devoured her savory meal so quickly that she's kind of left there looking at the plate. She picks it up and licks it a couple times so as not to waste a bit of juice or rare grain of salt.
She glances up at you as you watch her eat. "What?" She asks after a few seconds.
Evergreen would love if you'd buy her another treat, of course. But the girl is kind of low on the pecking order of the rafter kids and she likes this taste both of the high life, and being important to someone (you in this case). She wants you to call on her more, make her important. Maybe even get her outta there. Some day.
What do you do?
Poor kid.
The Lord used to heal lepers back in the day. When he did, he sometimes told 'em not to make a big deal out o' it because iff'n they did he'd be overwhelmed with folks wantin' somethin'. Heck, the Lord even said there'd always be poor folks, nothin' he could do about it. If the Lord couldn't do it, what chance do I have?
Gotta try, though, right?
"Say, Greenie. Fore I go an find WotCee, why don't we have some desert."
I motion to get a little more food at the table.
Evergreen's eyes light up as she stares at you with big eyes and nods 'yes'. She settles into her seat with a little wiggle of excitement.
One of the servers brings over another plate, some sweet bread which they say used to go with coffee. Made with a load of nuts and sweetened with honey from somewhere in the woods.
Evergreen goes to take it, then hesitates, her hand just an inch or two from it.
"Whaddya want from me?"
She realizes that nothing in this world is free.
What do you do?
With a sigh, I say "Greenie, all I want you to do is take some care of yerself, as best ya can. And, while yer at it, keep an eye out fer when my folks and I are in a safe distance to ya, like when we're here at Safeco, and come say hi. That's it."
While she eats, I'll tell her the story o' Jonah and the whale. It doesn't occur to me until halfway through that a story about a creature that comes out o' the sea to eat folks is a little more relevant than it should be, but it's the kind o' story that kids like, either way.
When she's done, I'm going to go find the family and maybe think about makin' some plans to go talk to WotCee before he does anything he regrets.
Gates,
You find Troll, Stumptown and the others. They're all sitting out in the bleacher seats, resting. Utilikilt and Easy are a few rows down, coughing and trying to keep things down.
Troll comes up to greet you, "Brother Gates, we need to do somethin' about our boys. That girl Shy told me they got no room down there at the infirmary, and I don't know o' nobody who can help 'em here at Safeco. Think we oughta head to Pike?"
Bon's the only proper doctor. What do sick people do in Pike?
Well, that there's a problem. Bon would be the best person for the job here, obviously, but I s'pose in a pinch ol' lady B'ham will do. She ain't a real healer, like Bon. More like a superstitious ol' shaman who waves some incense and chants at folk when they all sick or hurt, but she does often have some tea or herbs that help, at least a little.
And, I gotta go to Pike anyway, see if I can intercept WotCee 'fore anythin' happens to Vignette.
Or should I say 'fore anythin' happens to WotCee?
"Okay, Troll. That's probably the best o' bad options. Let's make 'em comfortable and head out, soon as we can.
Gates,
Troll and QuePasa gather the flock and everyone heads out of Safeco. It's daytime and dry, so the walk should be short, if there are no incidents. The walking ways are clear, completely clear of raiders of any kind. It's almost refreshing, except for having to stop every half mile or so for Easy and Utilikilt. They insisted on coming, and it didn't make much sense to walk to B'ham, then back, and leave them on the stadium seats the whole time.
When you arrive at Pike, it's late afternoon. The markets are busy, and you spot every stripe of raider around. There's Pike's Boys, too, but they're outnumbered three to one. There's a low boil going on here, but no fights have broken out yet.
"Lotta rough folk out today, Gates." QuePasa states the obvious. "It aint normal, all of them around.
How do you and your people get on with the raiders? Of the Tax Patrol, Salmon's gang and the Farseekers, which one gives you the most trouble, and what is it you think they hate about you and yours?
For the most part, raiders leave us alone. Not because they like us or get on with us, mostly just because we're seen as not particularly worth it and a little on the weird side o' things. I've heard it said that a few of 'em worry that I'll put a curse on them if they do anythin' to us. We get hassled sometimes, but we've been decent so far at feignin' that we ain't got nothin' they'd want, and they've been good so far about leavin' it mostly to hard stares.
Havin' said that, Salmon seems like, at some point, he might have somethin' to say. I get the feelin' that he knows we're friendly with Val and thinks that means we must be in with Admiral (we're not, of course) and that we probably have more jingle than we let on (that one is probably true, from his vantage point).
I nod to QuePasa. "Somethin's definitely up. Maybe we tell two of the family to do a quick run around to see what it is? Let's send Troll and FortyFour. Between the two of 'em, they should be able to figure somethin' out.
Gates,
QuePasa agrees, tells Troll and Fortyfour and they head out. QuePasa picks a few to walk with her as she takes Easy and Utilikilt to see B'ham. Fremont, Rei and Ghost walk with you to try and find WotCee.
Why don't you give me a Read a Sitch to get an idea on Pike and WotCee?
Sounds about right.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 5. Total: 9)
What's the best way in to find WotCee?
Gates,
Best way is to hang around his mother's noodle shop. He sleeps there, and he'll show up at some point, no doubt.
Plus, the noodles are pretty damn good.
I assume you head there?
You enter the shop with Ghost, Rei and Fremont. A bell rings, loud in the empty space. The inside of the shop is dimly lit from the afternoon sun streaming though small windows high on one wall. Sounds of activity from the kitchen abruptly stop. Kites comes out to see you, Gates.
She scans all four of you, "Gates, Rei, Fremont. Ghost. What would you like today?" Her eyes look tired, she's been cutting vegetables in the back, using the same knife Vignette moved last time you were both here.
What do you do?
I smile the friendliest smile I can. "We're here to sample some of those tasty noodles, Kites. One order each for us." Lowering my voice I add "And, when WotCee gets here, maybe he and I can chat."
Till then, I'll just wait for him, chewin' on it with the family.
Gates,
Kites gets noodles for each of you, serves you with some old colas, flat but sweet. Rei complains that they make her more thirsty, but Ghost gulps hers down, then belches, which makes Fremont snicker. Despite the tension of your impending conversation, the rest of your flock enjoys the food and makes conversation. Fremont hums an old hymn, one that's close to your heart, Gates. What is it?
After an hour of waiting, Kites brings WotCee from the back. Evidently, he snuck in. She holds his shoulder as she walks him in. The kid is all scowls and angry youth, doesn't seem like he wants to talk to you or anyone. "WotCee, this is Father Gates. He wants to talk to you."
The kid wipes his nose with his sleeve, "What do you want?"
What do you do?
Fremont's got a voice, that's fer sure. And I do love that song. "Am I Born to Die." First off, it's just a pretty tune, and there's nothin' wrong with that. But second, I've always been partial to the, let's say, ambiguities o' that particular piece. "How shall I leave my tomb?/With triumph or regret?" The whole tune is filled with nice little couplets like that.
See, a lot o' folks who preach, they got a lot o' confidence in them that they know what's best fer them and everyone else. When I listen to the Lord, though, mostly I hear that it's hard. You do what you can to follow him, but iff'n he weren't even always sure that he was doin' the right thing, what chance do us sinners have? The Lord swore at His Father in the garden, the Lord lost his temper at folks, all that. So the best I can do is try to be a good person and hope that I leave that tomb in triumph stead o' regret.
'Sides, I already got plenty o' regret, so fillin' the last chunk or three o' my life with some triumph wouldn't be all bad.
As these thoughts flit through my brain I hear WotCee's cutting "What do you want?" Kid couldn't be less impressed. I've met no shortage o' folks like this in my life, though. I turn to size him up.
"Well, friend, like yer ma said, I jus' want to talk a bit. Should we take a walk, or you want to chew on things here?"
Readin' WotCee
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 3. Total: 10)
Gates,
The kid's got his mother's eyes. He's wearing galoshes that are a bit big for him, jeans stuffed down into the gaps, a sleeveless black shirt that's too big for him, has the word SWASS on the front, with some knight's name.
WotCee looks up at his mother with a sullen expression, then across the table at you and yours. "Walk." He heads for the door, shoving it open, and waiting. He'll walk beside you, making sure he doesn't look at you, but you get the feeling he's listening. "What does my mom want you to do to me, old man?"
I shrug at his question, with a practiced nonchalance.
"You like stories, kid? I always like stories."
What does WotCee wish I'd do?
WotCee looks up at you, dubious. "You gonna tell me some soaked story about a boy bein' good to his momma? Bein' the man of the family?" He kicks a bottle out of the way of this diny alley. You're a half block from gumwall. People are around, nobody's watching. Nobody cares.
Gates,
WotCee is here to find a way to Vignette. Pretty much trying to work himself up in confidence and knowledge to be able to kill his father's murderer who now rules his mother's town. He wants you to get out of his way and stop wasting his time with whatever he thinks you're trying to say. You know. This is hard for him... he's talked himself up as a bad-ass with a gun to the rafter kids and if he doesn't go through with it he's going to be a joke.
What do you do?
I chuckle. "Not quite, my friend. I don't got any stories like that. I don't think there are many stories like that."
How could I get WotCee to reconsider attacking Vignette?
Gates,
"What stories you got then?" He asks in a sullen tone.
He is stuck with his reputations with the rafter kids, if he thought he could "get off the hook" and still do right by his dad, that might work.
Making him more afraid of Vignette might work too.
I smile a soft smile.
"I got a story about a man who went through some shit, and where it got 'em."
My voice falls to a hush. If yer a preacher, the one thing ya gotta be able to do is tell a good story.
"See, a long time ago, before you or any o' yer friends was even born. There was a man who had a family. A wife and a kid. 'Bout yer age. Kid's name was Levi. And this man loved his family very much, and there weren't nothin' he wouldn't do to protect 'em, 'specially lil' Levi."
I pause and think about where to go next with it. It ain't easy in the tellin'.
"Well, this man's wife, she was killt. Then all he had was lil' Levi. One day, Levi and the man were visitin' a town, not too close but not too far from here. The man knew better, but he left Levi alone for a few minutes while he went and did some business he probably shouldn'ta been doin' in the first place. When he comes back, he sees that this other kid, dark skin, big eyes, braided hair, a scar on her neck, only maybe a year or two older than Levi, had stuck Levi with a knife and was rummagin' through his stuff. The man chased the kid off and then went back to tend to his son, lil' Levi. Wouldn't ya know it, though, Levi had bled out. Man didn't even get a chance to say good bye, or I love ya, or nothin' like that."
Another pause.
"So a long number o' years later, this man is still all consumed by rage. He goes town to town lookin' fer this kid that did this to lil' Levi, thinkin' he's gonna wring her scrawny neck when he sees her. All he thinks about is vengeance. He describes her to folks he meets, dark skin, big eyes, braided hair, little scar on her neck so you know it's her. Then, one day, he sees her. Right there in the flesh in front of him, not far from here. She looks all mean, sittin' at a bar and drinkin' coffee. So the man watches her, simmerin', and he waits. And when she finishes her coffee and leaves, he trails her, a good distance so she can't see him. His brain is jus' burnin' with rage, and as he's gettin' ready to jump her, thinkin' what he's gonna say to her, 'you killt my boy,' that sort o' thing, two big guys comin' the other way get to her first. One hits her upside the head with an iron. She keeps fightin', she's mean lookin', like I said, but she can't bounce back from that first hit. The man jus' hides a little off the road watches these two guys beat her up and take everythin' she's got, even her shoes, and leave her there in a ditch."
I take a deep breath.
"So after a few minutes, the man slowly walks over to her. He ain't even sure she's still alive. When he gets there, the girl who killt his son looks up at him with scared eyes. She thinks she's gonna die right there in this ditch. Her teeth are chatterin' in fear, and blood is comin' outta her nose and mouth, she's sputterin' and crying. So the man grips his knife in his hands, and he starts to pull it out of it's sheath, and then the strangest thing happens. Clear as day he hears a voice say 'she who killed your son is no more. In her place, behold your family.' And in that moment, as he looked down at this helpless girl in front of him, hearin' this voice in his head, all the rage the man felt fer years jus' melted away. He let go of the knife, and bent down to help the woman up. He walked her back to town and took her to an angel. He sat by her side as she recovered, and paid for the angel's services. All the while, the man prayed over her. Finally, after a week, the woman opened up and told her story. I won't bore you with it. Suffice to say, it weren't a happy one. She'd been strugglin' her whole life. Never had anyone keepin' her dry. Said the man helpin' her was the first favor anyone ever did 'er. Said bein' that close to death and bein' saved by another had changed her.
Really, though, the man saved himself that day. I mean, first off, she woulda killt him dead if he actually ever came after her. He knew that for damn sure, now. But beyond that, she taught the man somethin'. When someone wrongs you, you can get yer vengeance on 'em, but what's that do? The world is no better. You still been wronged, and now they been wronged too. Ain't no one happy. On t'other hand, you can show them the error o' their ways. Make 'em a better person. You do that, you actually fix things. Fer you and fer them."
A final pause.
"So she and the man set off walkin' and, wouldn't ya know it, the two of 'em found lots o' other folks who needed someone to take care o' them fer a while. And that man still thinks that if he actually followed through with his plans, there'd be a lot o' folks the two o' them have met who'd be worse for wear because the woman'd be dead and the man would just be cryin' somewhere. So, I guess that's the end o' story."
So what's WotCee really feelin'
Gates,
During the first half of your story, you see WotCee swing between moments of complete rapt attention, until he sees you've noticed, then he looks away or gives a sour face. As the story continues, he can't hide his shock at your turn, at the outcome. He scoffs, "You're the man, aren't you? Levi's blood on your hands. And you're scrogging the girl, aren't you?" He stares at you, his eyes belying the spite in his words.
WotCee is confused. He wants to believe there's some other way, but part of him needs to know his father's death meant something. He's also furious with his mother, because she sent Vignette after him.
I shrug a practiced shrug.
"Listen, kid, I ain't nobody. I'm just tellin' you a story about a man who realized that if you want to make someone's death mean somethin', you make the world a better place on their behalf, not a worse place. If you can convince someone to turn themself around 'stead o' puttin' 'em down you don't just save them 'n yerself, but everyone they go out an' help now that they're turned around right."
I kneel down and look right at 'em.
"Folks fuck up, kid. They do. But a lot of 'em know it and then try to go right. Best give 'em a chance. Allies are always better 'n enemies in this world.
Gates,
You catch it, that moment when his mock derision slips, his eyes soften, and he looks up at you with all of his ten years of age. "But... what about. What about what my mom did? Paid a witch to kill my dad?"
I nod and frown.
"Well, kid. Yeah, that's a tough one, eh? I ain't tellin' you what to think, but here's what I know: my Lord said that it's his job to decide who's righteous and who's wicked, and our job to forgive people and treat 'em decent."
I think for a minute.
"But me, Gates, what I think? I think that's exactly right. The Lord is always right. But I also think that, yes, folks can run out o' chances. So give folks as many chances as you can. But if they keep hurtin' you, and they keep hurtin' others? Well, eventually, things change. That happens, you come talk to me again. We reassess.
Gates,
I think you're Manipulating WotCee to put this revenge thing away. You've played to the Read on him, so I'll give you a situational +1 Forward for the roll. Let's see some dice!
Works fer me.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 6)
WotCee gazes at you, deep in thought. He's smart, a smart kid you'd say but he's growing fast. Spending more time away from home. He's right there between needing someone like his mom... or you to show him the path. And deciding on his own.
"How can you just let it go..." his voice trails off as he all but answers his own question. Maybe he can just let it go. you can see it in his eyes.
WotCee fumbles around under his shirt for his father's gun and slowly pulls it out to hold flat in his hands where you can see.
"I thought this is what would make me feel better... thought it's what my dad would want me to do. Make things right with a bullet in that old witch..." He glances toward the end of the marketplace where Vignette makes her court. "And I know that lady Vignette is gonna get hers some day for all she's done! I know it... But this isn't me..."
he holds the gun out to you to take it from him, emotion welling up inside him as he excitedly says, "Take it... you take it... I don't care what the others say. I'm not gonna do it... i don't want her blood on my hands!"
There's a sudden snap of a hard boot on stone from the end of the alleyway you've been walking down together.
"The flood is going on here? You're that bleedin' kid that's been sneaking around!"
The wiry Pike guard closes his hand around his sidearm as he sees the gun held between you and realizes he's outnumbered.
Dangerous.
What do you do?
Best read a sitch, here, it seems.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 9)
What's our best escape route, here?
Gates,
Vignette stirred up the Pike gang big time. Everyone still jockeying for position, trying to make themselves known to her. This guy, known as Wash, would probably love to bring in a pair of conspirators to her and take credit and if you make a break for it someone's likely to get shot at. Best way out? Give up peacefully and let him take you to her. You know her right? Won't be a big thing... probably.
Well, it is what it is as they say.
"Whoa, there, friend. We ain't causin' any trouble. I'm sure we'd be happy to go with ya and get this all sorted out."
I shoot a quick wink at WotCee.
Gates,
Please go here.