The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled -- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity.

-Edgar Allen Poe

Runt lays his back against the corner of the butcher's shop, huddled underneath the overhang as thin driblets of rain splattered across the plaza of Van Gowen Way.

All things considered, this morning was perfect for begging.  The reality that the rain would likely keep people indoors, giving him fewer marks to beg from was entirely offset by other positive factors.  Firstly, the rain would also keep away other panhandlers, giving Runt an exclusive market, but more important, the cold and wet would make Runt about as pitiable as was possible, which was exactly what Runt was looking for.  It was perfect.  Not cold or wet enough to make things really miserable, but just enough to make it seem like he was.

Runt placed his cap out in front of him, a stained and moth-eaten thing that was far too large, and jingled a copper of his own into the rim.  It was enough to give the impression other people thought well enough to give him some money, but not enough to think Runt was doing just fine.

Suffice to say this was not the first time Runt has sat on a corner and begged for money.  Far from it.  In fact, Runt would guess he was probably one of the most gifted beggars in the whole of Craine.

Runt brought out his wood flute, licking his lips a touch before brining it up to play, though a glance down the street gives him enough pause to bring the instrument back down.  It was Deng.

Deng Learen was a man of little ability and less intelligence.  A true nothing, who seemed to have not an honest bone in his body and who got along in life only by taking what he could from those who couldn't or wouldn't resist.  Sometimes Runt would give the man a copper or two to leave him alone.  He almost always regretted it.

"What do you call this?"  Deng sneered at Runt, grabbing the single coin in the cap before Runt can react.  He holds the farthing up, displaying Runt his own money as he looks at the tarnished coin himself.  "I thought you were supposed to be good at making money, pipsqueak, but it seems like you're no better than the rest of us.  This isn't even enough for my effort of coming down here."  Deng flips the coin in his hand and despite his words he places the thing in his pocket rather than give it back.  With an indecent leer, he places his hands on his hips and looks down upon the youth.

"You know what?  I think you may be losing your touch.  People don't feel sorry enough for you any more."  Deng's lips twist and curl into a wretched smile.  "Tell you what pipsqueak, I'll trade you a favor.  I need ten more of those by this afternoon.  If you can do it, great.  If not, I'll help out and make you so desperate looking that no one will be able to ignore you... I think two broken legs should do it.  You'll be a real moneymaker then."

Deng pauses his speech, sizing Runt up as he glares downward.

OOC:  It is 0800 on the 30th of October, 2005.  Welcome to the game and the thread!  It is 0800 on the 30th of October.  If it isn't clear, Deng is extorting you.  He has already taken a farthing (which has not been deducted from your starting wealth) and is demanding 10 more by this afternoon.  If you fail, he is threatening to break your legs to make you better at begging.  Feel free to react in any way you feel is appropriate.  You have all of your items within reach, including your broom handle which is just beside you, though the majority of your money (you only have 3 more farthings tucked away on your person) is hidden around the city in places only you know.  Good luck!

Runt felt confident about the day.  Yes, it was raining some, and what was coming down was cold.  But it wasn’t heavy and he wasn’t completely soaked through yet.  But it was enough to keep most of the other beggars in, at least until they had recovered from too much drink the night before.  That was one of the advantages he had over most, he got started earlier in morning.  Still, the rain wasn’t fun to be out in and if the pickings weren't good here, he’d probably head over to the New Jerusalem Gate and try things there.  The guards there might let him dry off and warm himself by their fire.

He was set up and ready to start playing when he spotted Deng headed his way.  It looked like Deng wanted something and it probably wouldn’t be good for him.  He gave brief thought to running, it would be easy to get away.  He was faster than most and knew more ways around Craine than anyone that he knew.  But he would have to leave most of his things behind and Deng would catch him sooner or later.

He started to greet the wanna be thug but had barely opened his mouth when Deng snatched the farthing and made his demands.  His gut knotted up, while he didn’t think that Deng would actually break his legs he was more than capable of severely beating him and just might would do that if he didn’t get what he wanted.  Of course Runt knew that he could always go and dig up one of his stashes, but he didn’t want to do that except as a last resort.  He would need all that and a lot more than he had hidden to make it through the winter.  Runt glanced around the plaza but didn’t spot anyone who might help.  Maybe he could talk Deng down.

“Hey Deng, that be an awful lot of coin.  You knows I ain’t gettin’ that much in a day for me.  That be more like two or three days work.  Most of it go to taxes an rent an my business fee.  That be three in four coin I get every day.  Ten for you don't leave nothing for me.”

He watches Deng carefully, looking for the clue to tell him what he might need to do.




OOC
Going for a Fast Talk here first
22:32, Today: Runt rolled 12 using 3d6 ((3,6,3)).  Just might have made it.

Body Language second, not a chance unless Deng really telegraphs his intentions.
22:33, Today: Runt rolled 12 using 3d6 ((1,6,5)).

Dodge roll if necessary, All Out Defense, Increased Defense on Dodge
22:33, Today: Runt rolled 13 using 3d6 ((5,5,3)).  Probably not successful.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 10 Mar 2021.

Runt starts to make his case of the sheer impossibility of the task at hand, though the argument does not seem to sway Deng.

"Losing your touch indeed."  The grotesque smile spreads across his face like a plague, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.

"Maybe we should just get on with it then, give you a little more chance so you can make ends meet..."

Ka-fucking-boom!

The percussion wave sweeps over Runt, sucking the breath from his chest as his ribs thrum like a struck timpani.  The cries of several women issue from left and right.

"What the fuck?"  Deng turns.  Over his shoulder, a thick grey and white cloud has erupted, highlighted orange on the bottom, which is centered on the small hill where Witten Asylum sits.  Runt pushes himself to his feet, grabbing up his cap and his broom handle and takes in what he can of the view.

It appears the whole third floor of the Witten building has been blasted from existence.  Where it had once thrust up from the center of the stone building, now there was a mere ring of jutting, broken stone and the horrific cloud which billowed upwards into the dreary, morning sky.

Runt had avoided the asylum, or even thinking on it whenever possible.  He knew of only one man who had been there, Kraaven Moorehead, who told a story of being forcibly interned in the horrific place after he had overheard something as to the grisly experiments taking place there.  Kraaven had only escaped after a month or more of imprisonment by shoulder-ramming his shit box and braving the near total darkness and putrid stench of the sewers below for hours on end.

The story was more than enough to encourage Runt to stay well clear.

But as the dusty cloud billowed up into the sky, Runt couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on there.

Thunk!

A head-sized chunk of stone lands in the street and rolls to a stop a half-dozen yards behind Deng, who is still staring up at the half-demolished structure.

"Shit!"  Deng curses, quickly redrawing his attention to the stone landing behind him, then glancing around quickly as if expecting more hellish projectiles to land all around.

"This afternoon!"  Deng turns his head to Runt as he begins to jog away, an arm held up to shield himself.  "Right here at sundown, or we'll find make it so every one feels bad enough to leave you coin!"

All around him, the sickly greyish cloud begins to fall, brining the smell and taste of chalk and gravel...

OOC:  Sorry, fast talk didn't work for you.  Body language didn't tell you much, though there was no need for the defense due to the ensuing chaos.  The ball is officially in your court.  You have lots of options for taking care of Deng, who is not a power player by any stretch of the imagination, and you imagine that he is working quite on his own.  However, as an adult, he is quite obviously bigger than you and certainly capable of making good on his threats.

Runt was fairly certain that he couldn’t talk Deng out of his demands, but had hoped that he might get   the amount lower or get more time.  Deng’s response proved that to be an error.  He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the first blow of the beating he was sure was coming.  He didn’t want a beating, they really hurt.  He wouldn’t try to tough it out, Deng liked it when his victims made noise.  He drew his legs up, making himself as small a target as possible awaiting that first blow.

It never came, instead he was rocked back against the wall by the explosion, much larger than the loudest thunder he had every experienced.  For a brief second he thought that had been Deng but he couldn’t hit like that.  He shot up on his feet, stuffing his cap on and grabbing up his broom stick.  His ears rang and hurt from the concussion.  He saw that Deng had turned and was staring at a quickly expanding cloud where the loony bin sat.  He’d rather deliver a message to the Mage’s Guild than go by that place.  A small rain of stone chips fell over the plaza and rattled off the building.  A large piece hit the street and rolled towards Deng, stopping short.  A little closer and my troubles would be over he thought.

“Yeah, sure Deng, sunset.  I be here,” he responded to the low level bruno exiting the area.  Most of Runt’s attention still focused on the sight of the ruined building.  He picked up his flute and cased it, then walked over to where the large chunk rested and examined it.

OOC:  Yeah, I figured that there just might be some negative modifiers on the Fast Talk, but at least they weren’t so bad as to provoke a bad reaction (well, not worse than it already was).  Still, there are several options open and Runt didn’t take any damage which I was honestly expecting so things are good.

Though Runt had been prepared for a more physical response to his attempt at a reasoned argument, he seems to be saved for the moment by whatever act of god had brought a hail of stones falling down from the asylum.  Before Runt knew it, Deng was hustling away, Runt's copper still tucked away in his pocket.

And I'm responsible for ten more.  Runt thought to himself.

But though the prospect of earning over two pennies in a single day hung over Runt like a shroud, he would not let fear of Deng control him... he had options.  And besides, there were much more interesting things to things to think about at the moment... like the massive stone which now lay in the street.

Runt moves forward tepidly and the cloud of dust and sand rains down around him, darkening his surrounds for a moment.  Runt is forced to raise an arm and lower his head as tiny pebbles dance off his shoulder and head, though the moment is short lived.  Runt coughs as the heaviest of the dust settles to the ground, leaving only a white and grey fog that seems to linger in the street.

Runt approaches the large stone, which is nearly a foot across with a flat face and jagged edges.  He nudges the thing with a foot.  It is most certainly quite heavy... heavy enough to have turned Deng into the sort invalid he was threatening to make Runt.  It doesn't seem to be anything special though, just limestone or basalt.

Feeling certain there is nothing off about the rock, Runt stoops down to investigate it further.  The thing is probably some twenty pounds, and seems just a chunk blasted out of some larger building material.

Runt looked over the piece of stone closely, and then up at what was left of the Witten Asylum.  Wow, this flew all the way from there he thought, estimating the distance.  He didn’t immediately notice anything special about it but figured he might could make a use of it so he started rolling, pushing, and pulling the fragment over to the wall of the butcher’s shop.  If nothing else he could stand or sit on it when he was here trying to make money, like a stage he saw real performers on sometimes.

Done with his labor, he looked back up at the hill.  A thought came to mind – Maybe there was some rich stuff just lying around up there now, blowed out the building.  Maybe ‘nough for him to sell to take care of Deng.  He wouldn’t have to go in the building.  Just outside, not even on the grounds, well maybe if he saw something really really good outside the building, but not going inside of course – never that.

His mind made up, he quickly gathered up his belongings and headed up the hill to the Asylum.  He needed to get there before anyone else had the same idea.  Besides, even if there wasn’t anything useful up there, he could always try performing at the nearby marketplace.

Runt makes an effort to roll the large stone over towards the overhang of the butcher's shop, though the awkward edges make it a tough job and eventually Runt stoops, picking up the large bit of rock with both hands and duck-walking it over to the shelter.

Though as he finishes the work, an idea strikes Runt.  Maybe... Just maybe the sudden explosion at the crazy place might prove to be a boon after all.  Even if it hadn't smashed Deng in the ear, there still might be all sorts of treasure just lying about in the grass outside...  It was enough of a draw to overcome his normal aversion of the place...  it was the sort of building that gave you the willies.

Runt approaches the building as the cloud of white and grey dust slowly sinks back to the earth below.  The two bottom floors emerge from the hill, stopping cleanly in jagged rock where its top floor has been blown clear off.  It stands like a decapitated old soldier, twenty feet of brick and stone overgrown in wrist thick vines that scrawl all the way up to the roof.

Runt approaches the the wrought iron fence surrounding the building.  Its some fifteen feet high and tipped with jagged points.  The one entrance through is a large, double swinging gate open on rusting hinges, which leads to a chipped stone and on to the massive doubled doors which serve as the only entrance to the asylum.  Normally, there's be a pair of guards standing at the gate, harassing anybody who wandered too close, though it seems in the commotion of the morning, that particular guard has lapsed.

Runt scours his eyes on either side of the path as he approaches.  Here the weeds and grass grow thick and high, though it is clear that much of the debris from the explosion have landed close, with two or three massive chunks of stone jutting up at angles from out of the weed.

Runt didn't want to get too close, though the wilds outside of the brick and stone building promised all sorts of possibilities... and those vines strangling the outer walls would be so easy to climb all the way to the top...

OOC:  You are standing at the front of the asylum, though you haven't gone through the gate yet.  Please let me know where you are searching (general area is fine) and roll vs. Search.  If you have something in particular you are looking for, go ahead and let me know and then roll vs. scrounging.  Only do one of the two though please.