The inaugural scene of the reinvigorated OtherSpace MUSH kicks off what I hope becomes an interesting story arc. It starts off as a simple bounty hunting mission to find a thief who’s made off with stolen goods from The Shambles marketplace aboard Iron’s End. But, as tends to happen, it grows more complicated.
Regular player characters in the scene include: Cygnari, Newt, Rosalyn, and Sefra. Brody alts: Sereta, Blot, Jasper, Dorian Rake, Kye Solvan, a couple of orbs, and a mother with baby.
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Dorian Rake is standing near one of the market stalls close to the arch leading to the Voidspire, listening as the woman running the stall shouts: “I’m fed up, Marshal! You best do something about that mongrel. He’s hit my shop three times. THREE!” She waggles a trio of wrinkly digits to drive home the point. “Get my stuff back! And put a stop to him. I don’t care if you shove him out an airlock.”‘
Newt makes his way in, hands in jacket pockets, looking out but face mostly unseen beneath his giant hood.
A greyfurred Lyiri shuffles out of the Junkers guild and seems to just instantly stop at the shouting and looks over her ears drooping to the side somewhat as she just seems to be quietly getting the mood of whatever is going on.
Cygnari flares his wings a bit, fluffing his feathers out a bit as he stretches entering the Shambles, a small leather satchel slung over his shoulder as he takes a look around before starting to make his way over to Patch’s usual hangout.
The marshal scratches his bearded chin, resting a hand on the holster holding the pistol on his left hip. “Okay, Sereta. Settle down. Kye’s always seemed mostly harmless to me.”
“Maybe you don’t got any skin in the trade game, Marshal,” she snaps, scowling at Dorian Rake. “He’s taking food from the mouths of me and mine. I don’t know why he’s so fixed on stealin’ my goods. I want it stopped.”
Newt stops, quietly mutters something to himself as he looks around. He fixates on the conversation Marshall is having, letting people move back and forth between him and the source of his interest without a worry.
Cygnari catches the conversation and makes his way over to where the Marshal is standing. “A fair evening to you, Marshal. Having trouble with another interloper?”
Sefra blinked a moment while thinking to herself. (Oh..stealing..That is not good.) then watches Cygnari move over, still playing an observer for the moment, shifting somewhat over slightly in the direction though
“Kye Solvan,” the marshal responds to Cygnari, turning to regard the winged alien. “He’s a regular. A little *too* regular. He’s hit this shop three times in a month. Sereta is understandably upset.”
Newt wonders over and begins looking over at what the stall has to offer that is so worthwhile.
The stall’s shelves hold a mix of inventory, from metal ingots to stim-packets to medical vials, as well as some garments and equipment.
Cygnari nods solemnly. “A fair reason to be upset.” he says, nodding to the stall owner. “It sounds to me, if I should be so bold, that once caught, he should be introduced post haste to the nearest airlock. Minus a functioning spacesuit, mind you.” he says, not mincing words.
Dorian Rake frowns. He doesn’t seem upset with Cygnari, though. He shrugs, sighs. “I’ve warned him more than a few times.” He looks back to the Falari and asks: “You free to look for him? I’ll leave it up to you how you handle him. Just find him. Try to recover what he took. And then let me know what you do to him. If it’s the airlock, maybe invite witnesses, just to make the message clear.”
Sefra listens to the exchange at the stall near the voidspire and quiet visibly seems to cringe as the thought of shoving someone out of an airlock, now shifting closer to try to peek from a distance of what the stall actually has even at a distance.
“I’d be glad to help.” Cygnari says. “This place does not need sticky-fingered bandits taking the hard earned wares of its denizens.” he says, his beady eyes narrowing. “Honest trade I respect; pilfering, I have my own way of dealing with it.”
Newt slowly but systematically scans through the items on offer, stopping when he finds something that may be of interest. He looks up at Sereta, “Hey. Mind if I check this out?” He asks pointing at a doohickey.
Sereta eyes the boy suspiciously. “And what would you want with *that*, exactly?” she asks. She peers around the Shambles. “Where are your parents?”
Rake seems relieved to delegate this particular job. “Ok, Cygnari. Settle this situation and I’ll make sure you get some scav credits. If you need to bribe anyone for information about Solvan’s whereabouts, just put it on the bill.”
Cygnari nods, flaring his wings a bit. “Consider it done.” First thing he does, is begin to look very carefully around the stall… looking for any clues most might overlook.
Rosalyn enters the marketplace, eyes scanning over the stalls until she finds one that looks like it has various used electronics for sale and fetches vials with various labels from her satchel for the stall owner to select from as she points to a transmitter cable. As she finished the transaction. She notes Cygnari looking about with a nod.
Sefra is still trying to handle the ‘thrown out the airlock’ talk, then shakes out her head ears perking up, padding over a bit more and towards Cygnari, “Hello, While she did not like the airlock talk, may she help?” blinks a moment before she adds on, “You may call her Sefra by the way.” looks like she wanted to add more after ‘Sefra’ briefly but kept it short.
Newt looks square back at her and replies, “At another stall. And I like fixing stuff and that looks interesting.”
“Well, don’t steal it,” Sereta snaps at Newt. “Or it’s the airlock for you too.”
A heavy-set man wearing a gray tunic and baggy black pants tucked into scuffed leather boots sidles up next to Cygnari and says: “That Kye Solvan. Nothing but trouble. Am I right?”
Rake coughs. “Blot,” he warns. “You sniffing around for credits?”
“Just looking to help, if I can,” the tubby newcomer responds.
Cygnari looks down at the newcomer. “Trouble indeed. I suspect that looking to help is the same as looking for credits, but if you can provide sufficient assistance, then it makes little difference to me.” he replies, his wings flaring a bit. As Sefra addresses him, he looks down at her as well, and offers a nod. “Any help would be appreciated.”
Newt rolls his eyes as he looks away and picks the doohickey up, “I won’t.” He begins looking it over. “What’s the guy who took stuff look like anyway?”
Rake takes out a holographic emitter from the pack slung at his right hip. It displays a staticky blue-green rotating image of a human male with cybernetic augments – one over his left eye, another cradled around his left ear. “He’s scraped together enough over the years to give himself a couple of dubious upgrades. Used to work as a station tech until Patch got wind he was slipping gear to a black market ring.”
Rosalyn hms. “Pretty good at finding information myself and willing to trade for services in kind if credits are in short supply. May need to augment his brain in that case which could be helpful to us. The augments make him easier to distinguish.”
Cygnari studies the image carefully. “Hmmm… then perhaps we could track him using those very implants. They should give off a rather specific signature.”
Newt looks up from the doohickey in his gloved hands and over at the image in question staying silent for now.
Blot smirks. “He’s sneaky. Knows his way around. I can tell you. I got no love for the guy.”
Sefra tilts her head as she hears people talking. “She can keep an eye on things..but..she is mostly good at craft work. She can sense some things but she is not sure how much good that will do.” tilts her head the other way, “Do you think he was smart enough to turn off active tracking on the implants? It is still an implant..Though she wonders why he is doing these things.”
Rosalyn hms. “Any idea what was taken in case we sight the goods before the man?”
Cygnari nods to Sefra. “Eyes and ears are good tools in addition to what we can scrounge to try to track him. If we have someone among us who is good with electronics that would be a plus.”
Serata furrows her brow, regarding Blot. “Get bent, fatty. Quit trying to cash in on my trouble.” She looks up at Cygnari, then jabs a finger toward an open vent cover in the bulkhead behind her stall. “He comes and goes through the air ducts. Blot here won’t chase him because he might get his fat ass stuck at a T-junction.”
Blot widens his eyes: “I say, that’s kinda harsh, Serata. I don’t appreciate your body sham..”
“Shut. Up.” Serata continues. “He’s got this leather satchel. Think he bought it from Zee Fedmill a few years back. Anyway, I saw him snatch some neurotox, a couple of stim-packets, and six ingots of silver.”
Newt just barely suppresses a laugh at the stab at Blot, “Uh. I know electronics and stuff.”
The edges of Cygnari’s beak curl up at Serata’s burn of Blot, and nods to Newt. “Excellent.” he then looks up at the air vent, then at the rather diminutive size of Newt… “How are you at crawling through ventilation ducts?” he says with a bit of a smirk expressed with one edge of his beak turning up.
Rosalyn hms “Well I know my way around basic med and Comm equipment. Don’t deal in making augments but I know how to track a comm signal”
Rake tilts his head and blinks a few times upon seeing Cygnari attempting to recruit a kid to go chasing after a fugitive. He raises a hand and says, “Look, Cygnari, I’m all for leaving you in charge of this, but make sure the boy’s parents know you’re deputizing him, all right? Beyond that – I don’t want to know.” He turns and strides away.
Cygnari nods to Rosalyn. “That will be very useful. I believe we have all we need for the hunt… the watch begins, once we have our resources, we begin to stalk our prey. Until then, we keep our eyes peeled. He no doubt has a pattern. If we determine that, it brings us closer to trapping him.”
The Lyiri blinks, “She can mostly repair things.”, Sefra then looks at Newt. “She feels they will be fine?”
Newt sighs a bit at Rake’s comment but otherwise ignores him, replying to Cygnari, “Depends on the pay.”
Marshal Dorian Rake aboard Iron’s End has enlisted Cygnari, Newt, Rosalyn, and Sefra to hunt down a thief named Kye Solvan who has been pilfering merchandise from Sereta Vann in the Shambles marketplace. As we begin, the group is about to start their search by scouting the air ducts that serve this level of the station.
It’s been a minute, but Sereta has stepped away from the floor-level vent whose cover is slightly askew. That’s the way Solvan apparently got away with his latest theft.
Rosalyn peers sidelong at the open ven vent with a sigh “The vents again” She too is small enough to squeeze through and apparently has done so before. She looks back at “I can back him up”
Cygnari nods. “Obviously I cannot fit in there myself, or I would have volunteered to do so. I doubt that maintenance would appreciate my tearing up the station.” he says.
Newt rotates the doohickey he’s holding in his gloved hands as he looks between the two for an answer to his payment question.
Sefra blinks her eyes a few times and tilts her feline head, “She is unsure if she can fit in there herself. Her telepathy would not help as that is mostly one way…She would not make a good communication point.” the Lyiri put her hands in her pockets. “She will just wait to help some other way.”
Cygnari looks down to Newt, noting his earlier question regarding compensation. “Considering your size, it wouldn’t be worth my time to simply eat you…” he says, the edge of his beak pulling up in a sly grin. “I can offer a choice of some rather unique Consortium electronic tidbits I found during my latest travels. The location of where I found them to remain… classified.” he says. “Would that be satisfactory?”
Newt raises his eyebrows as he watches Cygnari speak but then grins, “That’d be cool. And 25% of the take.”
“Well, don’t just stand around haggling about it,” Sereta grumbles. “I’m no mathematician, but 25 percent of nothing is still nothing. And you get nothing if that jerk isn’t brought to justice.”
Rosalyn nods and looks to Newt “Right then. In you go. I’m right behind you.”
Sefra just droops her ears and blinks going into observer mode again as she watches the two get ready to go in the Air duct work.
“And he will be.” Cygnari says to Sereta. “And dealt with appropriately. He will not be in a position to do this again… rest assured.” he says, trailing off rather darkly at the end, his eyes narrowing a bit.
Newt looks from Sereta to Rosalyn to Cygnari and then back to Rosalyn then sighs, “Well this sucks.” He makes his move towards the duct. Hopefully curiosity wont kill the newt.
Maybe not curiosity. But who knows what waits in the ducts of Iron’s End? The duct proceeds about 20 feet horizontally until it reaches a T-intersection that goes vertical.
Newt and Rosalyn
Newt crawls along the duct, decidedly not thinking about what could possibly await in the nether regions of Iron’s End. Eventually, one of those things causes him to stop. Looking at first down and then up, “Well this is annoying.” he mutters to himself and then shouts back, “It’s kinda up and down from here. Any ideas?”
Rosalyn takes a laser light from her pouch and crawls forward into the duct shining the light ahead of her to keep newt in sight “Sometimes the crawl spaces widening into rooms of a sort usually near a junction. Look for somewhere where it turns left or right?”
Newt replies, the area in front of him lit up from his head, “Well this one goes up and down. So far don’t see anything left or right.”
There is, in fact, nothing but metal plating with bolts to the left and right. But from down below – maybe thirty feet or so – can be heard the sound of shuffling, a thump, and a male voice: “Ow.”
Rosalyn blinks, maneuvering the laser light to shine beneath where they crawl in hopes of revealing a means downward.
Newt grins and says, as he looks back, shining light on Rosalyn, “Think we found him.” The light goes off and the visor comes down. He looks back and down trying to see if he can spot the guy with infra-red.
The infrared does indeed allow the visibility of a heat signature – a wiry, short person now directly below Newt, crawling back the other way on a lower deck.
Newt cocks his head slightly as he observes for a bit before moving the make his way downwards, using his suit and gloves to stay “glued” to the sides.
Cygnari and Sefra
Cygnari watches them crawl into the duct, and meanwhile pulls out what appears to be an ancient laptop, though upgraded pretty heavily with modern components. The faded logo on the lid says ‘-e-l’. Walking over to a very ramshackle interface terminal, he plugs it in, using some codes borrowed from Patch to access the station’s security systems, such that they are.
Cygnari flares his wings a bit as he stares at a very rough map of the station, and his eyes narrow a bit. “There appears to be a disused utility area about two decks down, that may be his ultimate destination.” he says, then raises an eye ridge, looking to Sefra. “Perhaps we can go at this with a multi-pronged strike. Join me… we shall descend to that deck and find the external entrance. Two behind, two in front… he shall be trapped.” he says, pulling up his beak edges in an evil grin.
Sefra tries to look at the map as Cygnari points out utility area. “Ah, that makes sense! She will go with you, though normally she fights in defense so hopefully they do not put up much of a fuss.”
Newt and Rosalyn
A small door slides open in the duct to Newt’s left as he descends. A hovering orb emerges, subjecting the boy to a sweeping greenish-yellow scanning beam. The orb then vocalizes: “The dustballs are mobile now.”
Rosalyn follows Newt down, waiting at the level where he sighted their prey. Drawing two syringes from the pack, she hands one to Newt. “It’s a sedative. Just jab him if he comes back this way and the only thing he’ll be taking is a nap. We can let the captain handle any rougher stuff. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Newt startles and looks over at the orb as it appears and scans. After its brutal assault on his status as a fully solid entity he pokes his tongue out at it and resumes his descent.
As Newt continues his descent, another panel slides open, this time to the right. Another orb emerges, activates holoemitters, and displays vital statistics about the air circulation system, which is currently operating at 28 percent efficiency while maintaining an average temperature of 73 degrees Fahrenheit. The last message in the display: ONLY 3 SERIOUS CONTAGIONS DETECTED WITHIN RANGE. [RANGE: 300 FOOT RADIUS].
Newt stops again. What’s with all the orbs? He watches the latest one pop out, cringing a little at the idea of the next scan that… doesn’t come. He glances over the display and scowls… but then a though hits him and he begins to scurry along faster than before.
Rosalyn stops cold. “Only three, hmm. Hold on, kid. I am not getting infected with god knows what I don’t have the doctoring skills for that. I’ll go find an EVA and come down again. Keep your eyes on his signal and that helmet down, you hear me?.” She starts climbing back to where they entered at breakneck speed.
Cygnari and Sefra
Cygnari risks the lift down to the deck and makes his way towards where the utility area was indicated, looking for any indication of where the entrance is, or perhaps used to be. “I can see why he would choose such a location… this area appears to have not been visited in some time, except for rats. Perhaps he felt that was good company, considering he is one.”
The lift opens onto the deck where Kye Solvan presumably descended to. However, the route to the utility space is blocked by a large, colorful (but faded) clown head with a jester’s cap that looks like it might once have belonged on a Mardi Gras float. It’s not clear how the giant head got here. Possibly it was assembled within the space?
Cygnari meanwhile stops abruptly at the huge clown head, beady eyes narrowing at hit. “So he is a clown as well.” he snarls. He tests if the head is cloth or some similarly destructible substance… then proceeds to use his talons to tear into the smiling head and rend it to pieces. “If this is the best he has… then he has much to fear from me when we catch him.”
The surface of the head is easily rended, but the metal framework beneath is more irritating. Cygnari’s destruction leaves behind what amounts to a metal cage with gaps that might be navigable by someone Newt’s size.
Sefra pads over and looks at clown head currently being mangled and starts examining the metal framework to see if there’s a way weaken it or break it down easier.
The cage framework appears to be bolted together. With the proper tools, it could be slowly dismantled – or maybe melted apart. But the guy on the other side of the cage, now visible after Cygnari’s work on the giant head, could have other ideas. The fellow stands about six feet tall, wears what looks like a blue bellboy cap, and a gray tunic worn loose around the waist of black trousers. He rests a hand on the pistol holstered at his left hip and complains: “No appreciation for art in this hellhole.”
Sefras ears droop instantly down and she makes a wide-eyed stare as she tries to slowly back up. “Uhhhhh…hello…”
Cygnari’s eyes lock for a split second on the weapon, but then lock on the eyes of the one whose hand it upon it. In that split second, his own weapon is drawn from its holster, armed, and aimed directly between the new arrival’s eyes. “Art is in the eye of the beholder… when it is in the way of getting to my prey, it is junk.” he says evenly, his wings flaring apart in a threatening stance. “The question now is, are you prey?”
“Oh, it’s to be like that, is it?” inquires the man in the bellboy hat. He doesn’t draw his weapon. Instead, he lets his hand fall aside. “That was a vintage Earth relic, you know. Worth a bit more than the marshal’s likely to pay to trouble us down here.”
“I’ve seen, and have traded, far more valuable.” Cygnari says. “As the humans often say, more where that came from, but where…. a secret only a few know. So there is more than one of you rats down here. I tend to find rats rather… tasty. I also tend to get rather.. perturbed, when they threaten Iron’s End, as the Marshal and I go back a ways, along with most of her crew. You can test just what I am willing to do for them, at your convenience. For now, all I want is the rat we are currently after. Further visits may depend on keeping this rat pack in line.”
The man in the bellboy hat sighs and shakes his head at Cygnari. “You misunderstand. You misjudge. You act with haste. I recommend reconsideration.” Blue sparks jump from one of the joints of the clown cage.
“Then perhaps you can enlighten me.” Cygnari says. “Though you seem to be stalling for time.” he says, noting the sparks from the cage.
The Lyiri’s ears drop lower. “She was hoping there was a good reason for someone stealing from the same stall that many times herself.” Sefra makes herself as non-threatening as possible trying to read the room even if living people aren’t her speciality focus. “If there are more of you she feels that many steals would just lead to more trouble overall, she means.” On that, she looks between the mangled clown head and Cygnari.
The man in the bellhop hat considers the Falari through the charged metal barrier. “I am simply counseling against any rash action on your part,” he says. “We want no one hurt. Quite the contrary.”
Cygnari’s wings settle a bit. “An interesting perspective. The one I am after has done harm by stealing from one above, and… ” he says, nodding to the electrified cage, “.. this does not appear to be simply for decoration. If your intention is not to harm anyone, then perhaps you can tell me what it is.”
Rosalyn
Rosa goes back to the entrance and climbs out, if she can, looking about for an EVA suit.
“Cold feet?” Sereta asks Rosa as she emerges from the vent.
“Getting infected was not part of the deal.” Rosa answers brusquely. “I need an EVA ASAP, so I can get back down there. I’ve one on my ship but I’d appreciate a faster option.”
Sereta frowns. Blot, still lingering nearby, gets a smug grin on his face. He waits. She scowls, looks toward him, and says: “Get that look off your face, you gob, or I’ll use a rehabbed sander to do it.” Her attention goes back to Rosa. “Blot stocks that kind of equipment.”
“That’s right!” Blot replies. “And I’ll lend an EVA suit free of charge…” He eyes Sereta. “For a price.”
Sereta puts her hands on her hips and gives a weary stare at Blot. “You just literally contradicted yourself.”
Rosa sighs. “You can take it from my cut or I’ll pay you in tonics. Just get a suit, please.”
Blot beams at Rosa. “Keep the tonics, but give me the gin! One EVA suit, coming right up.” He heads back to his booth, wrestles out something that might be sized for a Demarian, and returns. “I’ll have to come back with the helmet. It’s not a complete match, but the faceplate’s not as cracked as some.”
Rosalyn smirks ” The helmet’s sort of an important part of the package as it were. If you would tape the cracks I’d appreciate. Otherwise its rather pointless as you’ll get my germs with your drink. The computer says there’s multiple contagions down there. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this chat” She steps into the suit.
“What computer?” Sereta asks Rosa. She seems skeptical.
Rosa shrugs. “We activated some kind of monitoring mechanism in the vents. I don’t know who made it, how old it is, or if the data is the least bit accurate. I just read the thing but in the interest of being caution I’ll take it at its word and wear a helmet if you don’t…no scratch that I’m wearing one whether you mind or not. Time is wasting”
Sereta listens to Rosa and then busts out a laugh. “Well, that’s your first mistake, listening to those old system orbs. Hard to believe any still function.”
Blot returns with the helmet. He has, as requested, covered some significant cracks with duct tape. He offers the helmet to Rosa, saying, “May you wear it with good fortune.”
Newt
Newt finally reaches the entrance to the duct where Kye Solvan was last detected. There’s a cylinder on the duct floor, emblazoned with a hazmat symbol. A soft hiss emanates from a nozzle on the bottle.
Newt finally stops and notes the cylinder. He reaches down for it before stopping again. Perhaps not. He moves away from the cylinder quick smart in the direction he last saw Kye move.
As Newt continues through the duct, he eventually comes to a makeshift barrier made of corrugated metal and spray painted bright red with the words: NO ENTRE. THIS MENS U. Beyond, one might be able to make out the muffled sounds of voices talking.
Newt looks the barrier over checking for holes, doors and whatnots. If there’s something to look through he’d check it out as subtly and quietly as he can.
There’s a welded-on handle on the metallic barrier inside the duct that one might be able to pull outward to gain access beyond.
Newt stares at the handle, contemplating just how much noise it’ll do. Probably too much. Maybe. For now he opts to listen hard to what the voices are saying.
Cygnari, Sefra, and Newt
The armed bellhop offers a curt nod to Cygnari. “Intention. That’s really what this is all about. Kye’s never been a very good person, but trust me: his heart is in the right place this time.”
Cygnari narrows his eyes a bit. “One thing you shall quickly find out about me is that I am not one to play games. If you have a position to state, I suggest you state it.” he says with a hint of irritation. “Otherwise, I have a duty to perform.”
“Mmph mmph hrr hrr.” A female voice, heard by Newt through the barrier.
“Lphrm mrph mrr.” Male voice, insistent.
And a baby cries. That’s heard by Newt and carries out into the corridor with the giant clown head remnants.
The bellhop glances back toward the sound, his brow furrowing. “We all have our duties.”
Newt’s shoulders slump and his face drops. “Oh, poo.” he breathes out.
Cygnari hears the cry of the baby, and has heard it enough to know what is going on. “So the position is stated, the long way around.” he says simply, and the gun is lowered, finally. “So… we are at an impasse. We have a shopkeeper who is has lost her livelihood, but at the some time it is needed for new life. A conundrum, indeed.”
“I wouldn’t feel so bad for Sereta, if I were you,” the bellhop replies to Cygnari. “I tried paying her price. It was simply too high. Unreasonably high. In fact, she raised the price when she learned we were on the run from the Rustborn.”
Newt’s… left staring at the door handle, trying to decide his next move.
Cygnari and Sefra
The pistol is finally holstered, and Cygnari’s wings flare, his rage evident, but what lies ahead of him is no longer the target. “Is that so… a fact that was very likely omitted from the report given to the Marshal.” he says, his eyes narrowing, his fists clenching as the talons shine from the brief sparks from the cage. “The greatest insult in this day and age… is an unfair deal. To refuse a fair price for goods offered… to put one’s greed above one’s fellow beings.” he says, the rage evident in his voice. “It seems, then, that Sereta and I have an appointment…. and I do not think she will find it pleasant.”
“I appreciate your understanding,” the human with the bellhop hat says, watching Cygnari holster the weapon. “We are willing to pay for the medicine. But we will not be extorted.”
Cygnari nods, now fully understanding the situation. “Agreed. A fair price for it will be…. negotiated.” he says, the last word said rather darkly. “I shall return. There are others who are also making their way here through other means. I’m sure they can be appraised of the situation.” He nods to Sefra. “We have business to attend to.”
Newt
The makeshift door seems to make Newt’s decision for him. It swings open with a clatter, revealing a wiry man with a pulse pistol on the other side, aimed at Newt’s face. He’s crouched on his knees. His eyes go wide with surprise when he realizes a fundamental fact about the person in front of him. “You’re a kid. You shouldn’t be messing around in there.”
Behind him, in the cluttered utility space, there’s a young woman whose face is marked by tattoos and metal implants. She’s cradling an infant swaddled in blankets.
Newt startles, having been lost in his own little decision-making thought process, and stares at the gun, “Uh. Sorry, mister?”
The man in the duct lowers his pistol. “You didn’t see the plague bottle at the entrance? Aren’t you worried about getting infected?” He turns his attention to the woman with the baby. “I’m sorry, I really thought it would work.”
Newt shakes his sealed head, “Nuh-uh. Was that a baby?”
“Yeah,” Kye Solvan says. He holsters the pistol. “A sick baby.”
Newt ooohs, “Wow. Sorry they’re sick and stuff.”
“She’s getting better,” the thief assures Newt.
“You can come in, if you want,” the woman says to Newt.
Newt’s… kinda frozen in place looking at the entrance. One the one hand… but then on the other hand… Oh, boy.
Kye shrugs at Newt. “It’s okay, kid. You can go or stay. You might want to go out past the clown head, though. Less dangerous than climbing. Well, as soon as Jasper disarms the shockers.”
Newt sighs. Time to do something stupid. “Yeah. Ok.” He makes a move inward, “Clown heads?”
The woman with the baby watches Newt go past, toward the archway that leads out into the utility corridor where Jaspar – the guy with the bellhop hat – is standing guard. The clown head is now mostly just a metal framework with tattered papier mache remnants. Newt should be able to climb through it – once it stops sparking with electricity. Jasper arches an eyebrow as he looks from Newt into the chamber and then back at the boy. “You took the hard way down, didn’t you?”
Newt does stop near the woman and asks, “Hey. Can I say ‘Hi’ to the baby?” Assuming nothing untoward happens he makes his way down towards Jasper, “Yeah. Guesso. Did you know there are orbs in there?”
The woman lifts the infant’s left hand to waggle it at Newt, smiling. The baby gives an uneven grin that turns into a red-cheeked smirk and the mother coos: “Oh, little girl, another messy one?”
Kye cringes. “We’re going to need bigger diapers.”
Jasper chuckles at Newt. “The orbs are just old tech from when Iron’s End was a functional mining station. I don’t even think they’re linked to anything much these days. At some point, they’ll probably just stop working.”
Newt waves back to the little baby and looks over at Kye, grinning behind his sealed helmet now.
To Jasper he says, “They sound useful. Someone oughta fix them so they can do their thing.”
“You’ve given yourself a project, then,” Jasper says. He opens a panel in the bulkhead and lifts a lever that deactivates the flow of electricity through the cables to the cage framework. “If you need supplies, I recommend anyone other than Sereta. Maybe that guy Blot. He’s an honest broker when he’s not a conniving liar.”
Newt looks behind him, ponders a bit and then back again and up at Jasper, “Yeah. She seemed ok but now she just sucks.” He heads for the clown head to make it through to the other side, “I’ll look for the Blot guy and see what happens. Thanks.”
Jaspar nods to Newt. Once the boy is safely on the other side and near the lift that will carry him back up, the man in the bellhop hat pulls the lever back down. The cage sparks again.
Newt catches the lift and heads off to rejoin one and all.
Cygnari, Newt, Sefra, and Rosalyn
Cygnari takes the lift back up to the market area and makes a beeline to Sereta. “Miss Sereta… we found our quarry… but in discussions with his companions, it seems we have a matter to discuss. Matters concerning shady business practices.
“What are you going on about?” Sereta asks with a weary sigh. She’s in the midst of setting out fresh supplies on the shelves. “Kye Solvan stole from me. Repeatedly. I want him stopped.”
Cygnari’s eyes narrow, and his taloned hand darts out, grabbing Sereta by the neck, lifting her up to almost her tip toes. “What I am ‘going on about’ is the fact a fair price was offered…. you attempted to extort them due to their circumstances…. you put your greed above that of your fellow beings….” he says. “Does that about cover it, or do I need to go into further detail?”
Sefra has followed Cygnari back here ears twitching the whole time in thought on the whole deal, up until the point she sees Sereta in a choke hold, the her face is back in an alarmed ‘uhhh..’ expression.
It takes a moment before she tries to speak up trying to be a bit more diplomatic, “There was a child Kye was getting supplies for…but apparently could not afford the price cause they were raised abruptly?”
About this time, Marshal Dorian Rake arrives at the shop stall to see the Falari grabbing Sereta by the neck. He draws his own pistol and aims it at Cygnari. “Let her go and explain yourself.”
Cygnari looks to the Marshal as he arrives, and sets Sereta down. “The explanation is simple. The story you have been fed was only a partial truth. The theft she has reported is indeed accurate, however, the reasons for it… are not.” he says, looking down at Sereta. “It seems Kye Solvan has relieved her of his goods because despite his offers to pay for the goods, he was denied. The price, in fact, was raised substantially once Sereta discovered they are in fact on the run from the Rustborn…. along with their newborn child. It is for this child the medicines have been taken.” he says. “They are more than willing to pay for the goods… but not to be extorted for them. Extortion is not an offense I will tolerate in my presence.” he says with a snarl in his voice.
Dorian Rake lowers his pistol and frowns. “Again, Sereta? We’ve talked about this before. At least twice. This is the third time. Vendors here have to live by a code.”
Sereta rubs her throat with the palm of her hand, scowling at Cygnari, and then she snaps at Rake: “The code doesn’t pay my debts, does it? If I cave to everyone who comes in here with a manufactured sob story, I might as well hang it up for good.”
Rosa listens to the story unfold. “If I can’t make what they need, I’ve ideas where to get medicines at a fair price.”
“Considering that your price increased substantially when his ‘manufactured sob story’ was related to you, rather than remaining the same or lowered… speaks volumes.” Cygnari says, his own scowl rivalling that of Sereta’s. “I for one find his story legitimate… I have heard the child’s cries, and these ears have been around enough to know the cries of a child in distress. You are fortunate I refrained from simply tearing your throat out rather than simply grabbing it.”
Newt speaks up, having gotten close enough, “Saw the baby. She waved and stuff. They need nappies, too.”
Rake listens to this, and tilts his head as his attention shifts from Sereta to Cygnari. “Wait, wait, wait. Why are they hiding? If they need help, why aren’t they coming to me or Patch directly? You said they’re on the run from the Rustborn. Folks in the Ashen Pact aren’t likely to turn them in.”
Sereta chuckles and shakes her head. “That’s because you don’t know the child’s father. And if you did, you’d say I wasn’t charging near enough.”
“A fair question.” Cygnari says. “But I have had my fair share of riddles today…” he says, looking to Sereta once more. “If you know more, I suggest you speak it.”
“Strel Varnak,” Sereta answers. “Top warlord of the Rustborn. You think he’s going to be happy when he finds out one of his wives found asylum here, with his baby? It’ll take more than a few props and an electrified clown head to keep his raiders out.”
Newt’s eyes widen and he mouths, “Whoa.”
Cygnari raises an eyeridge, looking to Rake, then to Sereta. “I, for one, do not believe the sins of the father pass to the child.” he says evenly, his wings flaring. “It would explain their reluctance to seek help, not knowing how such a connection would be received.”
Rake looks at the deck for a moment, then gazes around the Shambles. “The baby’s innocent in all this, no doubt, but Sereta’s right about Strel Varnak. And she could’ve cashed in on whatever bounty is almost certainly out there in the Rustborn networks.”
Sereta rolls her eyes. “I’m greedy, maybe, but I’m practical. I’m not a monster. You want the baby medicated? Fine. I’ll drop my complaint against Kye this time.” Her attention fixes on the marshal. “But you and Patch better figure out how to handle the storm that’s coming.”
Cygnari nods solemnly. “A storm indeed.” he says, looking to Sereta. “Your generosity is… noted.” he says rather evenly. “Though I doubt it is consistent.” He then looks to Rake. “If they need a place of safety, I offer my ship. It is not the best kept, but it is cleaner than where they currently dwell.”
“You want that kind of heat?” Rake asks, practically aghast at Cygnari’s suggestion.
Sereta shakes her head. “You’re halfway to a great idea. Put them on your ship, get off Iron’s End, and keep going until you can drop them off at some nice, neutral spot where no one knows you came from Iron’s End.”
Cygnari looks to Rake. “I know my way around hiding places…” he says, looking to Sereta. “Your continued demonstration of your lack of humanity is highly disturbing. Perhaps you would like to join them?” he says, before looking to Rake. “I might ask assistance in upgrading my weapons systems. I have some recent acquisitions Patch may have some interest to offer.”
Sereta shrugs. “It’s tempting. You’re painting a target on yourself and Iron’s End. I sure wouldn’t want to be around when the Rustborn come calling.”
Rake just waves a hand at Sereta and says: “We get it. You’re the voice of pragmatism. Blahblahblah.” Her eyes widen at the dismissal, but she takes the hint and goes back to setting up the shop for the day. Rake turns back toward the Falari: “I’ll put Patch in touch with you.”
Meanwhile, Blot settles into the squeaky, battered black office chair behind the counter of his stall about sixty feet away. He observes the ongoing discussion between Rake, Sereta, and Cygnari. Then he takes out a commlink. Looks at the device for several seconds. Looks around The Shambles. Looks toward the lift that leads down to the utility corridor. Sighs. Taps the commlink activator.