[AW] Gritch Tells Ruby

edited October 2010 in In-Game
The officer's quarters are definitely nicer than the barracks and tents in the gardens where the rest of Uncle's gang lives. The place seems quiet. You're at the door to Navarre's room. It's little more than a large piece of plywood hinged to the wall.


  • I been here before, one or twice, when Naverre had me check the place out for spookies. Didn't find shit, but didn't expect to. Mostly did it cuz the pay was good, and I didn't care if the kid was dumb enough to pay me for something I didn't actually think needed doin'.

    Don't know why I'm thinkin' about that now.

    I rap on the door, once, twice, hard. Again, I feel the absence o' my gun, that weight on my hip, like it's tuggin' me off balance. In another time and place, I never woulda opened a door without a gun ready. Look how things change.

    "Ruby? Is Ruby in there?" I grunt.
  • You hear commotion coming from the other side of the door. Sounds like someone hopping out of bed and rummaging through some shit. Then you hear the distinct sound of a slide on a pistol being yanked back and released; clink! Ruby's voice comes from inside.

    "Who's asking?"
  • Not exactly the welcome I was hopin' for. Then again, I don't know what I was hopin' for.

    "Gritch. I need to talk to you. About Naverre. And Mimi. Open the damn door, girl." While I'm speakin', I'm slowly, quietly shufflin' off to the side, so if she does decide to do somethin' crazy, I'm not immediately in the line of fire. I also unclip my pain wave projector from my belt, an' I start twiddlin' with the settings, just in case. Normally, I use this bugger for gettin' rid of the spookies, but I've noticed it has some ill-effects on the livin', too, and it might be good for subduin' Ruby if she's got herself a mind for some blood.

    I wish I had my gun. Barker is gonna pay.
  • You hear a latch and the door opens up slightly, 'bout an inch or two, enough for you to see Ruby's face peering through. You don't see the gun nowheres.

    "Gritch. Why are you saying Navarre and Mimi's name in the same sentence?"
  • "Why the fuck do you think, girl? Let me in. We need to talk, partic'lar about you gettin' outta here afore Naverre comes home." I keep the pain wave projector behind my back, so she doesn't see it, and I give her my best serious, cold dead stare through the slightly open door.
  • She swings the door open and stands there, a mean fucking look on her face. Then she puts the gun down on a shelf and walks over to the bed and sits on the end of it.

    "He found out? How?"
  • "I told him, to stop anythin' eruptin' later when he found out in worse conditions. That boy could do some damage to anything. Mimi's place, Mimi herself, any of the other girls there, to let alone you. Would you really have preferred him findin' out when some fucker in the Riders bragged about it to him? D'ya think that would really have gone well?"

    I pop a cigarette into my mouth with one hand while I hook my pain wave projector back onto my belt with my other hand. Once I'm lit up and puffing nice and good, I look back at Ruby.

    "Why would you do it in the first place, girl? That boy cared about you, woulda done anythin' for you." I'm not really reprimandin' her. At this point, I'm legitimately curious.
  • Ruby's sitting on the end of her bed, her back to you. You can tell she's chewin' on thoughts. She starts shaking her head.

    "I wish to hell you and that fucking bitch Mimi would have stayed the fuck out of my business. Fuck!"

    She stands up and takes this fucking old milk crate and starts stuffing her shit into it. While she's packing her shit, she speaks, mostly to herself.

    "He wants me gone?! Fuck him then."
  • "Apparently, you didn' do that enough, an' maybe that's why ye're in this place." I lean back against a wall to watch her as she packs up. Least I can do for the kid is make sure she's not packin' up anythin' that seems overtly his. I puff on the cigarette while I watch.

    (Hmmm. D'ya think I can read Ruby?)
  • Sure. Gimme the roll!
  • (Does Gritch notice the poppet on the shelf? Do we need more escalation and angst right now?)
  • edited October 2010
    Let's do it!

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • Question: What does Ruby intend to do?
  • edited October 2010
    Ruby finishes packing up her shit. It's not much; a handful of worn clothing, some food stuffs, miscellaneous junk, the pistol, and one of the books Navarre gave her that had more pictures in it than words, fairytales or some shit. While she's packing up, you notice this strange fucking doll-like thing on the shelf where she's working. You can tell it creeps her out and she avoids it. And, you. Well, you see it move. What the fuck? You wipe your face and its still again. But, for only a moment, it seemed to turn its head slightly. Fuck.

    Ruby heads for the door, but pauses, lifting the book in her hand. Then, she tucks the crate, cradling it in her elbow, and she kind of halfheartedly chuckles to herself, the kind that seems more desperation than amusement. She tosses the book on the floor, near your feet. She looks you in the eye and she responds.

    "Yeah. Maybe I didn't."

    She reaches for a stone in the wall and kind of yanks at it hard. It hits the ground with a heavy thump, dirt and mortar following along behind it. You see this old looking cigar box tucked away, in the wall, hidden once by the stone. She takes the cigar box and tosses it at your feet. When it hits the floor, it smashes against the book and plops open. It's filled with an odd assortment of barter (more than 6-barter worth easily), plastic jewelry, shiny trinkets, some high-tech shit too.

    "It was supposed to be for us. Tell him he can have it."

    She shudders visibly.

    "Don't fucking come around me any more, Gritch. Or, I'll have someone hurt you."

    Ruby's eyes start to tear up and she quickly exits the room. It's obvious what she intends to do. She's headed to the only motherfucker in this whole place that ever gave a damn about her besides Navarre.

    She's going to Fleece.
  • "You do what you gotta, girl, but think about what yer doin', too. You need a place t'stay, I'm sure Mimi can put you up an' take care o' you, especially if you're one o' her girls."

    She's out the door before I'm finished talking, but I figured it was worth a shot. Better for her to go to Mimi's an' live with Mimi's protections than to live under Fleece, prob'bly literally. But then, I didn't really come here to take care o' her like that. An' I 'd be lyin' if I said that there weren't somethin' in it fer me. Mimi's place could always use a couple more girls fer me. An' give it a week, two, three, an' I wouldn' have to worry about pissin' off Navarre if I did buy her services. Yep, that change would be nice.

    O'course, if Mimi keeps up her end o' the bargain, maybe I'd have gotten White by then. And after that, who the fuck knows what I'd be doin'?

    Ruby's gone now, headed out and away and I'm in the room. This were anybody but Navarre, I'd be mighty tempted to pocket some o' this jingle for myself. Don't really need it bad, but it's hard not to want to. Still, the boy trusts me. An' I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't feel partly responsible for what he's goin' through t'day. I close up the cigar case, slide it back into the hole in the wall, but I don' cover it up, hopin' that the kid'll see it when he comes in. I'm a bit worried about leavin' it here in a room that don' lock up, but then, it is Navarre's room. Maybe that's enough t'keep people the fuck away.

    As I'm slidin' the case back into the wall, that doll catches my eye again. That creepy ass motherfucking wrong doll.

    What is it? An' why in hell would Navarre of all people have something like it?

    I step over carefully, as if it's critter were gonna pounce on me the moment it had a chance. I close my hand 'round it, an' bring it up to my face, tryin' to ignore the odd warm, tinglin' sensation in the thing.

    No, I don' like this thing. Don' like it at all. An' this is much, much more important than dealin' with that damn girl ever was.

    No, I'd be a fool if I left this thing with Navarre, without makin' sure it were safe first.

    With a short sigh, I focus my eyes on its tiny little head, and I let that oh so familiar cold seep into my bones.

    (I'm opening my brain to the Maelstrom, here, to try to get a read on the doll. It's highlighted.)

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • edited October 2010
    It seeps into your marrow. And, everything gets frosty. You're lying on the ground. There's a man standing over you, but he's hazy and you can't tell what he looks like. Only that he's wearing these coveralls and a thin plastic poncho. He's also clutching this hideous doll. It looks exactly the doll in Navarre's room.

    Gritch, you've taken life. Tell me about the one you most regret.

    There's a shrieking. Pain. You feel it tugging at your soul, and ripping. It feels like your very being is ripping from your body. And, suddenly, everything is white and it's like you're flying through this tunnel. The shrieking gets more intense. And, then, it's quiet. You're looking down at another man. He's unconscious, but alive. You feel something grasping you and then release you. Falling. Before you hit the ground...

    At the Chateau, who do you despise the most? And, why?

    Suddenly, you're back in Navarre's room. Your hands are covered in tiny ice crystals. And, there's a wispy figure standing across the room. It's Balls. He's staring at you. He talks in this echoing, hoarse voice.

    "Careful, Gritch. You've already got one clinging to you. Don't need no more."

    And then, he steps back, away from you, and disappears into the wall.
  • Posted By: Michael PfaffGritch, you've taken life. Tell me about the one you most regret.
    One o' the firs' times I ever got asked to help out with the spookies. A little boy. Taken a knife, sliced up his baby sister in his parents' house. Dad wanted him dead, Mom wanted him saved. I opened myself up and saw the icy forms o' the spookies, riddlin' his flesh like a cancer. Never seen so many afore, and never seen so many in a single person since. No way I coulda taken 'em all out, not back then. Didn' know what I was doin', didn't have the tools I have now. So. I sided with Dad. An' I did the deed for 'em. They gave me the pistol I did it with as payment. I try not to think about where I got the gun when I use it on people. Though, inevitably, I always do.
    Posted By: Michael PfaffAt the Chateau, who do you despise the most? And, why?.
    (In advance, if any of this doesn't jibe with the Chateau or with Uncle's vision of things, just lemme know, it's totally open to change.)

    Heh. Well, that one's easy. Fuckin' Wise. Wise is an old fucker, an' she's seen some o' the shit I have. She might've turned into somethin' of a spook-hunter herself, if she hadn't gone fuckin' nuts with it. Far as I can tell, she sorta got caught up in Uncle's batch o' citizenry, but in the first part, she filled the role I do, now. Takin' care o' the weird shit, so Uncle didn' have to worry 'bout it. O'course, Uncle didn' like her doin' it, what with her bein' a fuckin' madball, with all the chantin' and the cursin' and needin' t' draw blood from her own body for her work. He kept her on short leash, t'say the least. Then, when I showed up, an' I could do what I could do, well, between me an' Wise, it was a no brainer. She'd never been given any kind o' official power, so it weren't at all difficult to just treat her like a reg'lar person again, like any other fucker in the Chateau. An' I might not've noticed her at all, either, if she hadn't tried to put a fuckin' knife in me on a couple o' occasions. Not to mention, that one time I saw her tryin' to do her work for a member o' her family, too stupid an' submissive to do anythin' but go to ol' Wise for help. She was cuttin' into that poor girl's skin. She was tryin' to bleed the fuckin' spooky out. She was torturin' the little girl. I'm a hard man, an' I do what I have to. But that was fuckin' wrong. Didn' say nothin' about it, cuz Wise's got her family spread throughout the Chateau, an' that woulda only caused trouble. But I sure as shit stopped her then and there, an' made it perfectly clear which o' the two of us was more in contact with the spookies an' their world. Bitch's hated my guts ever since, an' the feelin's mutual.

    "Balls, you shit," I gasp, rubbing my hand furiously. I hate it when the spookies do shit like that. Had a really, really bad winter because of it. Almost lost a fuckin' foot. Apparently, the fuckers were willin' to settle for a toe.

    Takes me a few seconds to get circulation back, and rub the frost away. No real damage done, but really fuckin' unpleasant. When I start gettin' feeling back in my fingertips, I turn my mind to what I just saw, and to the doll I dropped to the floor.

    First thought: Nothin' good ever came from somethin' so fucked up.

    Second thought: Coveralls. Plastic poncho. I know that outfit. Seen it many a time afore. Spector. Spector did this?

    Third thought: Why the fuck would Navarre be keepin' something like this around?

    I could put it back on the shelf. Maybe he just picked it up one day, thought it was cool. Maybe...maybe he was involved with those things I saw, more'n I can really tell right now. I don' know.

    But I can't leave this here. Can't leave this with the kid. He's got hisself opened up to the spookies more 'n most in this dump, an' maybe that means he can fight off whatever the fuck is in this thing better 'n most. But he shouldn' have to. Kid's got enough to worry about. An' this is the kinda shit Uncle keeps me around t'deal with.

    I slip the doll into one o' my pouches, an' tightly close it. Balls mighta been right, with what he said. Then again, he mighta been lyin'. Either way, though, I gotta chance it. This shit needs to be taken care of.

    I close the door to Navarre's room, an' I head down the stairs. Next stop? Well, I was goin' to go to Mimi's, tell her I did what I could do, an' maybe ask for some help with dealin' with Barker. But with this shit in my pouch...I need to find Spector. We might have our differences in how t'deal with the spookies, but if he's involved with this kind of shit, I need to know how and why. I'm makin' my way toward the gate where Spector's most likely to come into town.
  • Right on. We'll set up a new scene when Spector's finished up in the other.
Sign In or Register to comment.