The Clockwork Circus [IC | Closed]

by **Cybernetic Socialist Republics** » Mon May 06, 2024 4:10 am

Being a hired hand for the Azure Coats, as the man who approached her at the apartments suggested, was nowhere near as attractive of an offer for Lisha as the man must have thought it was. The offer for pay was only Gildets more tgan she could make in tangletown just by doing grunt work, without any of the added dangers of working for a gang. Not to mention, presumable once she took the job, she wpukdn't exactly be able to take time off work at will , or probably even be able to quit without having to watch her back. As far as she knew, this 'offer' was already a threat.

The good news was that she woukdn't have to respond one way or another way right now. This week woukd be dedicated to another almost certainly ill advised fight at the fleapit. She would not be fighting with anything approaching the focus & confidence she did the first time around, so whether or not she had a chance more or less purely revolved around getting significantly weaker competition. Her luck recently suggested that wasn't likely at all, but so what?

Actions, Turn 7
Starting:
Vis: 8/8
Focus: 1
Gilder: 15 G
Heat: 0
Stress: 2

-Lisha sleeps in her apartment. [-2 Vis]

-Fight at fleapit & Bet on self at the flre pit [-1G, -5 VIS]

-Lisha buys food & pays rent [-14G, -1 Vis]

Finishing:
Starting:
Vis: 0/8
Focus: 1
Gilder: 0 G
Heat: 0
Stress: 2

Inventory: Coat

by **The GAmeTopians** » Mon May 06, 2024 1:32 pm

Turn Seven

Kassia Alani Baker

Kassia had half a mind to slit the throats of her erstwhile employers in the dead of night for their choice in form of payment, but unfortunately that would hardly solve her current predicament. The metal bars sat heavy in her pack, but they hardly weighed her down - if there was one bright speck in the canvas of her current existence, it was that she had never been stronger. Unparalleled dedication to training was the only path to true greatness.

She stood half-shadowed by the ramshackle buildings of the Circus, peering across the way at Crimwick's. The Cog and Chain was the only other forge in the Circus, and her face was known there, so pawning off stolen goods was hardly an option. Here, though... here she could get away with it, so long as she found a buyer who didn't mind too much about her methods. A foreigner, likely, or perhaps a disgruntled Thenian. Her fingers were crossed, and her patience brought to bear.

Had to pay rent somehow.

by **Talchyon** » Wed May 08, 2024 7:17 am

Turn Seven
Hari Yahnric ("Doctor Veins")

Lazarian wrote:
WEEK SIX

(Image)

EVERYONE

RENT COMES KNOCKING ONCE MORE!

The dreaded spectre that haunts every hard-working denizen of Hsin-Yao city has reared its ugly head yet again! Rent, that inevitable toll demanded of us all, is due at week's end. In the winding alleyways of the Tenements, the dour-faced landlord goes door to creaking door, his visage as welcome as a pox. While in Ash Harbor, a burly sailor plies his trade, though his manner betrays none of the unpleasantness of the slumlords. Have your gilders at the ready, lest you be cast into the unforgiving streets!

NEWS FROM THE FRONT!

The republic of Hapa, stalwart ally to Thenia, funnels reinforcements southward through Paoting along the Peiping-Hankow railway. Yet the Communard horde claims to have inflicted a grievous toll, as the Thénian forces beat a hasty retreat across the Huto, bridges rendered to splinters by bombardment. Aloft, the cankerous underbellies of Communard zeppelins have rained destruction upon the railroads and very heart of industry in Cao Nan, leaving smoldering ruin in their wake.

CHECKPOINTS LIFTED IN THE JADE QUARTER!

To the protest and dismay of the bureaucrat classes that reside within, the checkpoints restricting passage into and out of the Jade District have been dismantled this week. The architects of order within our city's watch have yet to apprehend the blackguard responsible for the desecration of the Suzerain's statue - a humiliation most unbecoming. With the rumblings of labor unrest echoing from the Brickyard Rows, it seems the precious manpower of the gendarmes is best directed elsewhere.

STREETS RUN RED NO MORE - FOR NOW!

The clash of blades and thunder of gunfire that has plagued the winding alleys of the Clockwork Circus has abated to a steady drip. Both the Azure Coats and Red Scarves nurse their wounds, sharpen their shivs, and restock their coffers for the next salvo in their brutal campaign. Yet the streets remain far from safe for any who dare venture out after the sun's last light has faded.

MYSTERY AT SEA - CARGO JUNK VANISHES!

A stout merchantman bearing vital goods across the briny deep toward our fair city's ports has fallen prey to unknown perils - its hold remains ominously empty upon the docks. Several frigates from the Suzerain’s Royal Navy have been promptly dispatched to ascertain the cause of this vexing disappearance. Yet the invisible hand of supply and demand cares not for such mysteries, decreeing that any seeking sustenance must now pay double for the privilege. Let us hope this cruel burden upon the citizenry is short-lived! [Food, if purchased this turn, costs double.]

HARI YAHNRIC - “Doctor Veins”

As the week's steady march trudges onward, the merits of Hari's recent hiring decisions gradually reveal themselves amidst the whirlwind of the Sparrowhawk Croft’s halls.

Katrina Svartengrav, the grizzled yet undeniably efficient Dzerahski nurse, proves an immediate boon. She gladly accepts the weekly wage of 9 gilders and the esteemed position of chief nurse without hesitation, before quickly setting to work. The impact of this hire is near-instantaneous – the speed at which triage unfolded quickens significantly, the once messy ward growing presentable under her stern oversight. Of course, complaints about her demeanor arise constantly. Complaints about sour faces, biting words, and grim prognostications of the patient’s likely demise should their smoking habits persist. But, well, nobody's perfect. [Hari's work is now easier - he is less likely to become stressed.]

Jakob Bruner's case, however, proves more troublesome. From the outset, it was clear the man still grapples with the throes of old habits. On the days he arrives awake and alive, he is a veritable asset – a skilled surgeon deftly extracting bullets and stitching wounds without a whisper of complaint. But on the other three days? Well, those saw him stumbling about in a mumbling, glassy-eyed stupor, reeking of drink and rendered unfit to operate, relegated to menial tasks unbecoming of a doctor's pay grade. Frantic apologies and promises of improvement tumble from his lips whenever Hari calls out the issue, but his performance remains erratic. [For now, at least, Jakob's presence neither makes Hari’s job easier or more difficult.]

Li Qiang, the fresh-faced graduate, embodies precisely what Hari had anticipated – a wellspring of technical knowledge, yet lacking in practical skill. Grist for the mill, one might say, but everyone had to start somewhere. For the moment, the brutal realities of the job have yet to grind away at the young man's enthusiasm, each morning greeting Hari with an almost irritating eagerness to learn and be put to work. An asset, for the time being. [Li is making Hari’s job easier…for now.]

With his new hires in place, even if their contributions vary, the crushing toll of the Sparrowhawk eases, if only slightly. Hari's performance this week proves commendable, the ward boasting more available beds by week's end than it had at the start – a feat that drew a rare compliment from his ordinarily jaded and weary superior, Zhou.

The discussion with Scarface, it seems, has also borne fruit – by the final day of the week, the garish red 'X' that had been defiantly splashed across the Sparrowhawk's walls had been scrubbed away. A small victory, perhaps, but one that reinforced Hari’s belief that strength demanded respect from strength.

Yet, by the beginning of this week, it becomes clear that the Red Scarves have no intention of abandoning their claim over the territory entirely. A fact made evident by the arrival of an anonymous 'donation' – a set of maroon curtains to afford the first-floor patients a modicum of privacy. Or so the administration claimed. And Zhou seemed in slightly higher spirits of late, a new smoking pipe gracing his desk in a plume of aromatic smoke. Hmm.

When Hari broached the subject of a safehouse for treating injured gang members discreetly, Scarface was adamant in his refusal, shaking his head.

"We're proud of those colors. You're asking a lot." A grunt punctuated the words, yet he conceded with a grudging nod. "But if that's how it has to be, that's how it's going to be."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them before Hari spoke up once more. "And if I do need you...how do I get ahold of you?"

Scarface's finger rose to his chin, contemplating. "Any of our buildings – you'll know 'em when you see 'em. Gear and Gasket, Cog & Chain, Renderworks, Tenements, Draidic Lane. Approach the manager and ask for Saxon."

He rummaged in his pocket before retrieving a blood-red scarf, extending it toward Hari. "Do not say that without this on you," he stated, leaving no room for ambiguity as the vibrant fabric changed hands.

True to Scarface's words, the following week saw any gang members arriving at the Sparrowhawk for treatment begrudgingly respecting Hari's request to leave their signature attire at the door. Sullen glares and muttered curses made it abundantly clear he was winning no new friends with this policy, but for now, at least, his commands were being followed.

With work taken care of for the week, Hari turns his focus to his second passion – the investigation into those enigmatic whispers and the strange sights in the alley! Ignoring the children – ugh, children! – he persists in going door-to-door, inquiring about the elusive 'Dimu Doyen.'

The citizenry of the Circus, when pressed about the Dimu Doyen, responds with a range of hushed tones and furtive glances. Most simply slam the door in his face, but Hari is doggedly persistent, and eventually dredges out valuable information.

"The Dimu Doyen? Witches, they are – crones who dance 'neath the full moon and curse the very ground we walk upon!" The elderly woman Hari first spoke to opens up a little more, spitting to emphasize her distaste. "Foul creatures, the lot of them. Best steer well clear, if you know what's good for you."

A harried mother clutches her babe close, shushing the curious child. "Pay those sorts no mind. They're just...malcontent women, is all. Ones who weren't satisfied with their lot. All just superstition and nonsense. They’re just another gang. Is that all? Can you leave?" She shoots a wary look over her shoulder before hurriedly ushering her family inside.

"Witches?" A grizzled laborer squints through the dim light, a rueful chuckle escaping his cracked lips. "Aye, I reckon that's one name for 'em. Though some call 'em brewers, or wise-women. All I know is, you don't want to be crossin' any of that ilk. They'll put a hex on you quick as look at you twice, they will – and once that curse is laid, there's no tellin' what'll happen." He shook his head solemnly. "Unnatural sorts, them."

One man, with a green handkerchief tied around his face, provides a piece of information that Hari finds much more valuable than these rumors.

“The Doyen? Heh. A child’s tale, mostly. Superstitious local talk.”

He pauses, taking a long drag from a cigarette.

“But if you really want to know, there’s a shrine down by the old water-cistern. A shrine to the ancestral spirits. Ancient. Falling to pieces. Rumor has it that at one hour past midnight, the spirits of the dead howl there. Supposedly, it’s a sacred place to those witches.”

He crushes the butt of the cigarette against the wall, before dropping it into the dirt.

“Probably a bunch of bullshit, if you ask me. But a good story, eh?”

Fascinating. Hari is quite pleased with the investigation - where shall he go from here? [-1 Stress from Investigation.]

His sustenance remains as dismal as ever – typical fare, bland and unappetizing, the mere thought of it inspiring a grimace. A hunk of salted meat, its origins dubious at best, that had been boiled to a leathery, inedible consistency. Limp, water-logged vegetables swimming in a runny, flavorless broth that might charitably be called 'soup.' Stale, moldering bread so hard one risked breaking teeth upon biting into it. He grows sick of this food, pushing it aside on the weekend evening. Did he really take on all that schooling for this?

Sleep, at least, comes easily – the grisly sights and stresses of his profession hold no sway over Hari's ability to simply close his eyes and drift off, awaking what felt like moments later, refreshed and ready to face the day's rigors.

Yet one persistent notion continues to nag at him in those fleeting moments between slumber and wakefulness. He has amassed over forty gilders now, meticulously stashed beneath a loose floorboard, a modest sum by some standards. But a fortune here, in these ramshackle tenements. Was it truly wise to persist in these rotting, tumbledown shanties? Surely his hard-earned wages could procure safer, more comfortable lodgings – he had heard whispers from his coworkers of the Jade District, of the Brickyard Rows...hell, he may even be able to afford a home for this price.

At the very least, perhaps he could indulge in some fresh linens to grace his humble cot, a small yet meaningful improvement to his present circumstances.

Since Hari has dedicated the time to visit Werner, he does not need to expend any of his precious VIS to tend to Allistar this week.

Two out of three wasn't terrible. The new hires were helping. Hari loved the work of Katrina Svartengrav. She was a medical beast. So what if her bedside manner left some annoyed and bothered? If a nurse's words about proper health care stung and wounded anyone, they wouldn't last long in the Clockword Circus anyway. Hari actually agreed with her comments to longtime smokers. They wouldn't live long with it. Pessimistic or not, she was excellent. Hari made sure to tell her that and gave great reviews.

Li Qiang, the new grad and unseasoned doctor, was a great encouragement. Hari made sure to compliment him often. "You give hope as well as healing. If there is anything I can ever help you with, let me know." Taking the young man under his wing wouldn't hurt.

The problem was Jakob Bruner. Somedays he was fine. Others he was a wreck. A self-destructive man ticking down to destruction - not only had he fallen from his lofty earlier medical position, he hadn't stopped falling. Hari called him into his small and cramped office at the end of their shifts for a one-on-one.

"Dr. Bruner. Jacob. There is a saying in my land. First, the man takes a drink. Then the drink takes a drink. Then the drink takes the man. You and I both know why we're talking. I respect you tremendously. But you do not respect yourself. You are destroying yourself with your alcohol. I do not know what happened to you. I am willing to listen if you want to talk. But whether you do or not, we are going to help you recover. You are worth recovering. You can gain back your self-respect. And I think I know how we might. There's a guy who owes me a favor..."

Hari was not going to let Dr. Bruner go off on his own. Instead, Hari insisted that he come with him. Both as his superior, and as his friend who cared about him. Their destination? Father Werner at the chapel. Finding the cleric, Hari made the introductions and then said to both the following. "Father Werner, you owe me a favor. This man is a doctor colleague of mine and a friend. But he is destroying himself with alcohol. Some days he comes in endangering himself and his patients because of his drunkenness. Therefore, I am asking you for a specific kind of help. We will need a constant surveillance on Dr. Bruner at every moment. Surely you have some devout volunteers who can accompany him and watch so that he does not fall into drink. That will include night watches, bathroom monitors, and I will even grant them access into our hospital's surgery. They need to stay with him at all times, intercepting any drop of alcohol that comes his way. Knowing the zeal of your church, I am sure finding some people like this who will be willing to work like such as long as needed can be found. You do this, and you will save many lives - especially this man's."

Seeing Dr. Bruner's shocked expression, Hari knew his plan might even work. He was hopeful the monk would come through.

The Red Scarves wounded were being treated. They might not like putting their gang marks off to do it, but living was better than dying any day. Those Hari treated who glared and muttered curses at him did not affect him. He spoke kindly to them, encouraging them and treating their many wounds. A few even let down their guard and gave him their names. Kill them with kindness, Hari thought. It's the best strategy to win them over.

He even had a Red Scarf of his own now. One to wear to call upon Scarface (or "Saxon" as he said). Having that on his person was a dangerous thing. Hari was quick to hide that in his bag so Zhou wouldn't see it, and made a beeline to his room at the Tenements. It didn't hurt that the Tenements was a place Scarface said he could be reached. Still, Hari had to hide the scarf from view. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use it.

The Dimu Doyen story was intriguing. Mysterious witches who did who knew what arcane rituals there could be intriguing to see in action. But, going out in the dead of night to hear "spirits" (if there were such things) was a deathwish in the Clockwork Circus that Hari didn't have.

The shrine by the old-water cistern, however, would be intriguing to find. It just would have to wait a week or so.

What to do about lodging and food? Hari had enough funds to eat better - despite the jump in prices due to the shipping lines vanishing. The swill he had been stomaching for a month was nasty. He'd have to improve his diet soon. He could already sense the lack of nutrients in them and that didn't bode well for his own health.

As for the lodging? Rent was due. But rather than pay right away, Hari managed to dodge the landlord who was busy accosting another tenant, ignoring his calls for rent as he went by. Hari went looking for a better place to live. He could afford it. Now was the time. If he found a safer place, closer to either the market or the hospital, that went for 15 G a month or so, Hari would take it.

In his offtime, Hari went to research the mysterious blood sample taken from Father Werner's sick missionary. The sample he had taken in his syringe had heated the metal syringe up in his bag. That alone was unusual. But a mystery worth solving. Using the hospital's resources to test this sample, Hari went to work to look at what secrets this blood might tell.

The Clockwork Circus [IC | Closed]

Who is online