[AW] Gritch finds Spector (and Marlene)

edited October 2010 in In-Game
Gritch, the guards at the gate Spector usually enters through told you that Spector came through with some injuries, on himself and some others on the back of a cart. They tell you he was headed to the surgeon's bunker. When you arrive, you see Spector, along with Pamming. There's a body, that of a young girl maybe 14 or so, in the back of a cart. Blood is everyfuckingwhere. Marlene is outside, her daughter Vera in tow.

You're still a distance away. You wanna approach them?


  • Cigarette. Light it. Puff a few clouds of smoke.

    And I thought I was having a bad day.

    "Spector." My boots carry me over there, towards the poncho-wearing man. "Got a minute to talk?" My eyes fall on his latest. Pretty. Pretty young, too. "Alone?"
  • Marlene wants three thing: food, answers from Vera, and closure from Uncle on the whole "dead body" thing. She's not sure how Vera will answer things, so I'll give some branches to keep from slowing down. She addresses Vera: "Timmy said you came ashore for food. That true?"

    If yes: "What'd you bring to trade for it?" If it's something that could be reasonably traded for enough food to last the family for at least a week: "Good, get some food at the market and get back home. We can talk later." If not: "That's not going to get us very far. You head home and get one of the spice crates out; we can bring it back to the market later."

    If no, Marlene will try to assess reading her if necessary how important it is to Vera. Marlene would rather talk about it later, in the safety and comfort of Home, after clearing things up with Uncle, but if Vera's agitated, Marlene will talk to her now.

    The goal is to get her back to the barge so Marlene can talk to Uncle.
  • Vera looks excited somewhat. She's got this big smile on her face and she starts digging into this satchel, almost looks like a military green messenger bag, she has slung over her shoulder. She starts pulling something out, it's wrapped in this brown paper. You see the faint hint of blood soaking through the paper.

    "It's steak, momma. Real meat."

    She holds it up for you to see. There's more in her satchel.

    "I got enough for all of us. The man with the apron said it would last more than a week for five of us. Timmy and Jimmy were so hungry, and I knew you was tired. So, I just came and got some food. I thought I'd be back before you woke, momma, and cook you some breakfast in bed. I'm sorry. It's just, I got held up. The man with the apron, well, he wanted to talk to me about something else I'd like. That's when everyone started showing up."

    She breaks her eye contact with you and stares at the ground.

    "Had to trade poppa's wrench. The man in the apron gave it to his funny sounding brother."

    You can tell she's heartbroken about it.
  • (@Vera: Oof!)

    I'm watching the interaction between Vera and Marlene. Times are tough, but...I turn away, toward Gritch. "Yeah, sure." And as we walk off to a patch of dirt with no one around, "What's up?"
  • Another thread recently outlined moves for communing with souls. Is this something that most people around here can take a stab at, or is it only known to those who are better in tune with the maelstrom? The point being, Marlene's pretty flummoxed about this. She never really thought about where the meat came from when they bought it at the market. As long as they're dying anyway, does it matter, or is it more important to feed her family? She needs guidance, so if she can, she'll try to commune with Barney, and if not, she'll just open her mind in general. Typically, when Marlene opens her brain, the fog rolls in and completely obscures everything except whatever she should focus on, be it a path, object, or person. I'll go ahead and roll Weird, and then we can figure out which move it is, and the results:

    #DiceRoller( 2d6 )
  • edited October 2010
    Let's move the open your brain discussion over here. Based on that so far, your roll is for a simple open your brain move. You got a weak hit, so it'll be just an impression.
  • edited October 2010
    It's Barney's voice. But, it's distorted like it's being run through a thousand digital filters, reverb, distortion, phasing, vibrato, etc... He's calling your name,
    "Mar... lene..." far as you can tell. He's saying something else too. Something you can't make out. Although, you feel like he's trying to warn you about something.

    Tell me about a time, after Barney died, when it was hardest to bare.

    Your hair is damp. Like, you've walked through a forest mist. You're barefoot. And, you feel cold, wet grass and mud between your toes. But, you're not in a forest. You're inside somewhere. There's a steel door with a long vertical handle. The handle has a square button. Your hand is reaching out, depressing the button and you're opening the door. This misty fog rolls out of the chamber this door leads to. And, you're moving forward. Barney's voice, if it's him, is getting louder. The room is colder now, and your hair is stiffening.

    When you gave birth to Vera, how did you feel?

    It's hard to see in here. You're lost now. Looking back, the door is gone. And, you bump into something. It's hanging in the mist, from the ceiling. It's a lump of cold meat. You can't see what it is though. It's too hazy. Too fucking hazy. You're scared. You're calling out for him. You're spinning in this fog, bumping into more of these hanging carcasses. Faster now. Spinning. Bumping. It's a nightmare. Where are you? You finally spin and stop. Barney's voice stops calling your name. Your heart sinks. You're face to face with him. It's Barney's body. His face is iced over, mouth open as if frozen in a scream. He's hanging from his feet. Upside down. Then, he reaches out for you.

    "Mar..." ... "Lene..."

    You're slipping back through this tunnel of fog. Out of the chamber, the steel door closing behind you, fading away in the distance. And, you're back. Vera's there. She's tugging on your arm.

  • edited October 2010
    And, cross-post. I'll read and edit as needed.

    All right, it looks like Marlene has opened her brain. Since she lost Barney she's done this somewhat regularly when she didn't have anywhere else to turn for advice; she hopes his spirit has passed on to a better place, but if he is still hanging around, maybe he can help. If not, she hopes that whatever spookies are in the are are pleasant.
  • I look at Spector fer a momen'. Man doesn' seem to think anythin's up, anythin' more than that bloody mess he jus' came from.

    I respect the feller. He knows what he talks about. Don' agree with him about a lot, but I certainly respect him. Which is why I'm even more surprised about this little doll bein' connected to him.

    I keep my eyes on him as I open up the pouch, and then try to squeeze the doll out without touchin' it. When it falls to the dirt, I still keep my eyes on him, watchin' him fer a sign o' recognition.

    "Anything to say?"
  • I watch it fall. When it hits the ground, I kneel and pick it up, squinting close to make sure it's not just a child's toy. "It's a doll. I make 'em to hold souls that've gone bad and caused someone grief. Beeswax, blood, shit n' hair. What about it?" I look at Gritch, trying to figure out why he's bringing it up; like it's weird or something."
  • Blink.


    Spector's treatin' this shit like it's normal. Like it's just fine an' dandy.

    "What about it? Ye're tellin' me you trapped a spooky in there? You trapped a spooky...in a little doll? What the hell, Spec? I thought you just released 'em back into the air! You trap 'em in DOLLS?!"

    Calm down, Gritch. Calm down. This is Spector. He doesn't do shit without thinkin' about it, an' he's a smart man. He wouldn' do somethin' so dangerous without reason. Right?

    I let out a sigh, and continue. "And what do you do with 'em? Sell 'em? Give 'em out as toys? Because I don't see how the fuck this thing coulda made it into Navarre's apartment otherwise."
  • "Navarre? He's one of Lars' thugs, right? I don't know how he got it." The tone of Gritch's complaint sinks in once the puzzle of Navarre's possession of the thing is handled; and I find it kind of vexing. "I only trap the bad ones -- you know, when they're hurtin' people. What the fuck do you care anyway if the crazy ones get trapped -- you murder them!?!? I'm not exactly willing to do that an' it seems irresponsible to just release them if they're the bad ones. What do you want me to do with 'em?"

    Pausing to breathe for a second, embarrassed that I raised my voice over this, "And what's Navarre say about why he's got the little poppet?"
  • edited October 2010
    Forgot to answer the questions; I'll do that in a bit.

    Marlene turns to Vera. "You done good child, but on the way hear, I heard there's been a blight lately. Let me take the meat to Spector, he's got we need to make sure it's safe. You head back home, and I'll be there soon as I can. And we'll get that wrench back."

    If Vera obeys, Marlene will slowly make her way to Gritch and Spector, taking care to stay out of an argument if one's pending. Either of them will do, really; she wants to take the meat home, but didn't get the assurance she was looking for from the maelstrom, so she'll see if either of them can check whether there are spirits still hanging around.
  • edited October 2010
    Vera does as she's told, beaming after your approval of her actions.

    "Alright, momma. I'll head to Home."

    She smiles and heads back out toward the front lawn.

    You catch the last bit of Spector's question to Gritch as you approach them.
  • I brush off th' question with a flick o' my hand. "Haven' talked to him yet. Don' know. Next on my to do list. But when I threw my brain at this little fucker, it's not Navarre as I saw. It was you, an' I guess now I know why." Another sigh.

    "Look, Spec. I kill the spookies so shit like this don' happen. This thing? It's not a perfect prison. The thing inside is still there, still capable of doin' shit. It's just...not safe. Safer, maybe, than just lettin' it back out. That I'll grant. But still, not safe, not unless it's held by someone as knows what he's doin'. You wanna keep puttin' 'em in these, whadjucall 'em, poppets? Fine. But you gotta keep 'em to yerself. One way or another, we need t'make sure they ain't gonna wind up in the hands o' anyone else. Agreed?"

    It's not what I'd like most. I'd like most to burn the damned thing, an' make Spector agree to killin' the spookies. But like I said. Feller's smart, an' he don't do things without a reason. So that's not the answer. Keepin' his little spooky-traps under lock 'n key, though, that seems perfectly reasonable.
  • "Look, if I pull one of these confused souls out of a child and into a little doll, don't you think the child deserves a little something as a souvenir? And that way, the soul gets to stay closer to where it wanted too. It's a win-win." I manage this odd wide-armed shrug of exasperation. "Have you heard of any trouble coming to someone from a doll or are you just stirrin' up stuff for naught?"

    I tip my head a bit; thinking. "What happened right before you got all worked up about this? I think it must be something else that's under yer skin and you just came rantin' to me about next't'nothing. You got something wrong that need a hand with?"

    Hey, I know; maybe shifting gears a bit'll help Gritch calm down about the dolls.

    "Oh, hey Marlene! She OK? I'd keep her out-a-there if I could, yeah? I keep having those dreams about an old army hospital on some hill overlooking the lake. Have you heard anything yet? If it's really out there, that would be quite a find..."
  • For a momen', I think of not lettin' it drop. After all, I am entirely confident that these things are tickin' time bombs. 'Specially with what Balls said to me. "Already got one, don' need another..." Somethin' like that. I'm assumin' he was referring to himself when he said I already got one, that bastard, an' if this thing could latch onto me like he could, well, it's bad news.

    But fer now, I guess, I can let it slide. Spec's right, nothin' has come of this. Yet. An' I may just be a bit grated from the day so far. Maybe I'm railin' on him fer nothin'.

    As he starts talkin' to Marlene, I reach out an' pluck the thing from his grasp.

    "I'm holdin' onto this fer now, Spec. Need t'talk to Navarre 'bout it."

    I still don' like how it sits in my hand. Don' like how it feels. But I slip into my pouch. I'll ask Naverre about it, an' maybe then I'll be able to figure out what to do 'bout these things.
  • edited October 2010
    Posted By: Michael PfaffTell me about a time, after Barney died, when it was hardest to bare.
    Every day is hard, but the hardest is when he ain't there to do what he did best: keep things straight. A few months back, we were running ammo up to a mine; the deal was, every pound of bullets is worth ten pounds of ore, which we can take back to Uncle to make more bullets. (I have no clue about how smelting works, so if this is a ridiculous amount, let me know and I'll change it.) We got there, and unloaded the ammo, and they said things hadn't been running so well, so they didn't have any ore for us, but they'd still be needing the bullets. I had my gun, but there were too many of them, so we went home empty handed after months of trading to get to that point. When Barney was alive, rest his soul, he wouldn't have needed a gun; one look from that man, and they'd have given us a few extra crates of anything they had just for our trouble. He wasn't the sharpest, but he just got shit done, y'know?
    Posted By: Michael PfaffWhen you gave birth to Vera, how did you feel?
    I'd be lyin' if I said we were tryin' to get pregnant, we just enjoyed each other's company. This world's hard enough with two mouths t'feed. I was afraid to tell Barney, but when I did, he jumped up and started hollerin' about how he was gonna be a daddy. I knew right then our child would get all the love anyone could ask for. The day I brought my little girl into the world was the happiest day of my life then, but for a while after that, it seemed like every day just got better.

    "She done traded her daddy's wrench to that man for meat. Bless her heart, things have been a little tight lately, but I'm just not sure this is fit for us to eat, knowin' where it came from." A bit gingerly: "I tried to...ask about it...if you know what I mean, and I didn't like what I saw. Any way of figuring out whether anything's still hangin around it?"
  • "Oh."

    Shit. I mean, everyone hears stories of a tough winter and maybe someone dies and people eat a little better. But, y'know, you gotta do what you gotta do. This thing where you just go to the local butcher and pick up some neighbor...that's right off-putting. And what's he gonna do with the feller I left down there. He's prolly not well. Ought not be et.

    "I...to be honest I'm kinda...something...by this. I mean, here, I'll help you out and check it -- I know you'll help me back when I need a hand, but I'd be more worried about disease and what. You know?"

    I'm going to open my brain to Marlene's satchel of meat in the hopes of figuring out if it's metaphysically tainted. I grab hold of it, roll my eyes back into my head and seek. #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • edited October 2010
    It's just one flash. One flash of bright white. It shocks you. But, It's gone before you really have a chance to absorb anything except this one face in the white. You know the face. It's Bowdy.

    You ever had to partake in the flesh of another?
  • I've never eaten people-meat. Not so far as I know. Things were really tight after Father went away and I was just little. I don't really know what mama fed me, but y'know, there were never any signs that it might be people-meat. And I'd rather not. Tell the truth, I'm a little wary about eating meat in general. I mean, we don't live in such luxury that we can be picky -- and if a goat gets old or a horse has to be put down, it doesn't go to waste, but I'd rather eat taters and berries and such.

    I'm shocked by the revelation and even before I've reopened my eyes, I whisper "B...Bowdy. It's Bowdy."

    As I come to, I give my head a little shake and release the bag of meat. "Uh, yeah..." with a shrug of my shoulders, "...far as I can tell, you should be OK."
  • "You sure? What about disease, like you said?" Marlene's come around, and is now looking for a way to get rid of it without being wasteful. "I wouldn't want my kids to catch anything, but if it came from the chateau, maybe it's already been around, and anyone there would be immune? Maybe I can trade it for somethin' I can do that right after..." Marlene remembers she needs to talk to Uncle about that body, and realizes what's happening to the body now. "I...there must be somethin'..." she trails off, and looks despondent. If anyone is heading to either Uncle's place or the market, she'll probably follow. If not, she'll stand and think for a bit.
  • Marlene, you hear the rumbling of Tum Tum's motorbike before you have a chance to go anywhere.

    Navarre, you and Tum Tum pull up alongside the three of 'em.

    "Navarre, get Gritch."
  • "Hey, Gritch. Uncle wants to see you at his place, like, ten minutes ago. You busy?"
  • edited October 2010
    Looking to Marlene, "Anyway, hear anything on the lake about a hospital? I'm sure it's out there, an' we wanna be among the first to find it."
  • Marlene addresses Tum Tum: "Any questions about that scout, or can I be on my way?" She's trying to hide that she doesn't want to go anywhere with Gritch without making it seem like she's trying to avoid talking to Uncle.
  • I was busy smirkin' to myself over the conversation 'tween Spector an' Marlene when Navarre showed up. (Worryin' about where the meat were comin' from. Funny. Long as their spookies is dealt with, an' the meat's clean enough, who cares where it came from? Meat is meat.) Wouldn' be that big of a deal, but I heard Tum Tum tell Navarre what to do, an' I mos' certainly didn' like that tone o' voice.

    Navarre, o'course, is all kindness an' respect.

    "Don' know, Navarre. Why's he need t'see me? I was gonna go back t'Mimi's for some mornin' recreation." Not entirely a lie, neither; after talkin' to Navarre about the poppet, my next plan had been to look for someway to screw over Barker, an' I thought Mimi might be game. "'Sides, kid, me an' you need t'have another conversation. So what's Uncle got stirrin' up his ass that he needs me so dearly?"

    I'm not averse to goin' with 'em, an' I'm not really in a mood as to piss Uncle off. But I still did not like the sound o' Tum Tum's words. "Get Gritch." Nosirree. Didn' like it at all.
  • edited October 2010
    Tum Tum gets it, Marlene.

    "Princy didn't say anything about Uncle wanting to talk to you yet, so... Yeah. I guess you're good. But, keep yourself close, just in case I send someone looking for you."
  • "Yeah, I heard it's creepier'n hell, and nobody much goes lookin' for it and comes back sane. If you think you could keep us safe, I might know how t'get there. Wouldn't mind having some regular muscle along too," she looks at Navarre.
  • "Thank you sir. I'll be at the market, or back at my boat if you need me."
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