Clockwork Abattoir: Sordid Tales

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Xavier]The thugs lead Xavier through the Violet Ward's perfumed heart. Skirting the southern section and its bustling drug-markets, they pass an aromatic kaleidoscope of shadowmilk cafes, saloons, and bordellos. Yet, when the trio turns unto a street lined with high-class clubs and a terraced bathhouse, they disappear from Xavier's sight.

He swiftly spots them, however, as his mechanical eye scans the shadows of the marble-sculpted terrace. Hidden behind a row of gloom-shrouded statues, they await their prey with blackjack, sap, and nightstick in hand.[/ic]

[ooc]It appears the thugs spotted you, and now lie in wait to ambush you. Because you spotted them, you aren't flat-footed to the attack. Instead, roll an Initiative check (Agility based) DC 2. If you succeed, you can act first. You are within an immediate distance to the two closest thugs.

Should it matter, you are near the border between the Viridian Ward and Violet Ward (but are still in the latter). You recognize the street as the Gadfly's Trammel and the bathhouse as the Blanery Wallows.[/ooc]

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Catena]The taxidermic monstrosity proves surprisingly heavy, and frustratingly sturdy as Catena attempts, but fails, to overturn it. 

Meanwhile, the Ossifragrant finally manages to throw the blood-frothing Jarrow off her back. She swiftly grapples the man from behind, then begins to savagely gnaw on the his spine. Jarrow screams in pain and rage, blood-frothing from his fanged mouth and spilling from his ravaged neck.[/ic]

[Ghostman]

[ic]
Three against one makes for shitty odds. Time to give 'em the slip. "Sorry boys, haven't got any time to chat with ya!" Xavier spins on his heels and springs to a run, intent on retreating back to the Violet Ward.
[/ic]

[ooc]
Initiative check, applying Grit:
[blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 5, total 5[/blockquote]

Stat pools:
Might 9/10 (0), Agility 9/14 (1), Intellect 12/12 (0)
[/ooc]

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Xavier]The Nine Eyes, though shocked by Xavier's uncanny perception and speed, nonetheless give chase.

"Get 'im!" one shouts to the others. Yet, as they turn off the Gadfly, a passing carriage temporarily blocks their way. Shouting and cursing, they tumble around the auroch-drawn conveyance and continue their pursuit.[/ic]

[ooc]Among others, you main options are to (a) use stealth or (b) simply outsprint them. Both are Agility rolls, and both are DC 2s at this point.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic]Catena grunts in irritation.  She stands to the side, preparing to bring her heavy blade down on either Jarrow Slake or the Ossifragant - whichever gets the better of the other.[/ic]

[ooc]Might check to attack whoever dispatches the other, if/when the combat between the pair resolves itself:

This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d6 : 1, total 1[/ooc]

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Catena]The mutated grave-spawn continues gnawing on Jarrow's spine until a resounding 'crack' fills the air, silencing the man's screams. She attempts to finish the job by gorily ripping off the man's head from his twice-maimed neck, but the Ossifragrant catches the glint of Catena's rising blade.

Swiftly, the blood-drenched ghul spins. The maiden-sword falls.

But the strike is off-balance. Its weight, coupled with Catena's might, causes it to sink deep into the ground, shattering the flagstone flooring. A shard flies into Catena's eye, momentarily blinding her.

So unsighted, she can only whirl in the general direction of the circling Ossifragrant. Blinking away the shrapnel and tears, Catena is struck by the ghul's approaching breath, the scrape of her claws against the marred stone, and the hiss of her mirthless voice:

"You hurt usss, Pink-Eyesss. Broke usss. Now, we hurt you. Breaksss you."[/ic]

[ooc]The blindness is temporarily and incomplete. Still, for the next round, the DCs of all sight-affected tasks increase by 1 step (this includes attacking and dodging). DC 3 to dodge her next attack or take 5 damage (AC adjusted). DC 4 to attack. Both DCs include the 1 step increase. Remember to post your stats. [/ooc]

[TheMeanestGuest]

[ic]Hadric removes his ruined gloves, tossing them to the ground. He shushes Nibs when the demon tries to speak again. "Rest up Nibs, you've earned it! I mean, who knew you could expel that much liquid? Well, I suppose I did, actually." he says, patting Nibs on the head in a vaguely distracted way. Hadric gently coils Nibs back into his pack, shouldering it once more. Noticing the small crowd, a minor frown of consternation crosses his face. "Ah. Ladies, gentlemen, and other passersby. Merely a minor malfunction while practicing pyrotechnic display! I apologize for any concern that may have been aroused, but as you can see the situation is well in hand. Indeed - could it be any other way?" Hadric says, gesturing grandly at both himself and the scorched and steaming house. "Of course, the show draws to its close, as all shows must, and I must bid you good-day!" he continues, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Good-day!"[/ic]


[ooc]Hadric will spend a few moments using Hexsight (2 Intellect points) to try and figure out what the hells just happened. Regardless of his conclusion, Hadric finds himself in dire need of a haircut - his luscious locks scorched - and shall go in search of one of the Violet Ward's most skilled coiffeurs (or, if that should prove too distasteful to his ever-shrinking coinpurse, less-skilled). He will double-check that his door is locked before departing.

Some sort of witchcraft roll to go along with Hexsight if necessary: [blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 3, total 3[/blockquote]

Might: 12/13, Agility: 11[12]/14, Intellect: 6/9[/ooc]

[Seraph]

[ic]Putting a small coin down, Mr. Nix hisses at the butcher "Give uss a cut."

He eyes the steam-powered rotisserie far more hungrily than the meat, despite his own carping viscera.  Flensery...yes... he feels a grim and unsettling satisfaction at this first fragmentary glimpse at the picture.   Meandering the backlit corridors of his mind he catches a fleeting flash of the grizzly Platonic shadow-play.  A cestoid carriage pulls a human sacrifice, plucked from the choking miasmal streets and vapor-ridden back alleys of the Black Souse Tarnish to be served up as the dish of emotion and sentiment for Byleth's diet; someone no one would miss.  Or so they thought.  Now what to do what to do about it?  He turned his gaze outward to focus his sunblighted ocular orbs on the proverbial fatted-calf that ambled away, back towards its doom-carriage, seemingly oblivious as to its fate.  Or had it merely accepted its impending demise?  Mesmerized, perhaps.

"It makes us very hungry..."

The woman slams the chunk of burnt flesh onto the counter, shaking him from his reverie.  He swipes it away and slinks off, tearing a hunk off and tossing it to Vex, waiting to see if the hellhound drops dead before taking a bite.  Overcome with the sudden seed of a notion, which rapidly grew into a twisted, rapacious weed, Mr. Nix becomes implacably certain he is being followed.  Glaring with mad, wild eyes at all around, he sees at least half a dozen people look his way.  All culpable--all watching, all spies, every one. He feels a sudden need to escape, to retreat to the safety of his own ramshackle abode.   He begins racing through the streets, pushing people aside as he winds and twists through the streets to escape from the ones who are trailing him.  Slipping into a patch of shadow, he waits until all is still around him, and there is no one to see him--to observe which way he went.  Making his way to the end of the alley, he breaks into a dead run for home, and woe betide any who should attempt to interfere.[/ic]

[ooc]Stealth:[blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4[/blockquote] (One level of Grit applied)
Perception (to see if anyone is following him, or watching him): [blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 1, total 1[/blockquote]
If any roll is needed for his running: [blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 2, total 2[/blockquote]

He will attempt to make his way home in this manner.  If anyone approaches him, or seems to be following him, he will make an attack against them with his Hell's Torment power.  [blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4[/blockquote][/ooc]

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Hadric]The crowd disperses with a murmur of mixed amusement and affront. Meanwhile, Nibs slinks deep into Hadric's bag, wheezes a wisp of smoke, and promptly falls into a deep torpor.

Soon, the street becomes silent. The dry, tickling brush of smoke still lingers, but the dawn breeze and riparian tang gently wash it away. As Hadric regards the scene, he sees no further clues. The humidor lays singed, but whole. The cigarillo pipe no longer gleams with aetheric puissance. Its hexes are spent, consumed and dissipated as the conflagration they caused.

Considering the dearth of evidence as well as the state of his locks, Hadric's mind wanders to a few coiffeurs of acceptable repute and expense.[/ic]

[ooc]Your hexsight does not reveal anything of note.

As for local hair-dressers that might fit your criteria, two leap to mind:

1. Monsieur Lerrard. Best known as a hairdresser of high-class courtesans, including those favored by magisters. Obsequious to nobles, and considers himself high-class and seeks patronage. He has a variety of apprentices underneath him, and is unsurprisingly a seller of wigs as well.

2. Farelige. Technically two hairdressers with the same (adopted?) name, differentiated by their monikers of Carmine and Perse. They work primarily with men, especially the sons of wealthy merchants. Cheaper than Lerrard, and perhaps more avant garde.

Both are in the Violet Ward.[/ooc]

 
 

[Steerpike]

[ic]Adrenaline courses through Catena's veins as the ghul leaps towards her.  She snarls, a feral growl more like the bark of a wolf than a noise made from human throat, and twists backwards, dropping the maiden-sword.  With a bestial grunt she attempts to grab the Ossifragant's "good" head and bring her knee upwards into the grave-spawn's chin.[/ic]

[ooc]Activating Bloodlust to boost her Might and Agility Edge to 2, Catena will employ 2 points of Grit (thus expending 2 points of Agility Pool) to her defense:

[blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6[/blockquote]

She then applies another 2 points of Grit to her attack with her fists (medium bashing, expending 2 points of Might).  Both points of Grit will apply to her attack roll, rather than damage:

[blockquote]Rolled 1d6 : 5, total 5[/blockquote]

Might 0/13, Agility 5/12, Intellect 7/7[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ooc]For my minor effect, I'll take the 2 bonus damage, for a total of 6 points of damage.[/ooc]

[Rose-of-Vellum]

[ic=Catena]Catena's knee shatters her foe's jaw. The ghul crumples like a sack of rotten fish. Both heads lay maimed and still. A dull moan escapes, but the night-folk is otherwise silent and senseless.

Behind Catena, however, Jarrow begins to stir. Grotesquely, his neck begins to stitch itself back together with a hardening lattice of scab-scarabs. His runes continue to burn with a febrile heat and hue. He vomits blood, and slowly, impossibly, revivifies.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic]Narrowing her dark pink eyes, Catena takes a moment to catch her breath, backing away from Jarrow and readying her hand crossbow.[/ic]

[ooc]I'll use one of my Recovery Rolls:

[blockquote]Rolled 1d6+2 : 5 + 2, total 7[/blockquote]

Recovery Rolls Left: 3

Pools (before Recovery):

Might 0/13, Agility 5/12, Intellect 7/7[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ooc]I'll assign my Recovery points to bring my Pools up to the following:

Pools:

Might 5/13, Agility 7/12, Intellect 7/7

Hopefully I've put some distance between Catena and Jarrow.  If I get the chance to fire before Jarrow attacks I'll do so.[/ooc]

[TheMeanestGuest]

[ic]Miffed by the absence of evidence, and feeling vaguely offended, Hadric retrieves the humidor and the pipe, and sets out into the Violet Ward in search of Farelige. Hadric finds Lerrard's manner tedious, and in any case his work is a bit old-fashioned. A new style shall certainly rectify the day's poor start, he thinks.[/ic]