The Zeltivan Monument Series Part 2: The Recruitment (Solo)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Chet On the 14th of Summer, after finding out what favor Jesse needed done, Tock had stopped hauling wood and gone off to corner Chet. Another unskilled laborer, Chet had been doing some digging, something Tock couldn't much help with considering how sore her hand still was at the time. She did the best she could, though, holding the shovel with her left hand and bracing the handle against her right forearm. "Whaddya want?" Chet asked in irritation. He didn't especially like her. Tock got started helping him dig, a bit clumsily all said and done, but she was able to perform the task. They were digging out a stretch of ground in front of one of the houses, so that paving stones could be laid down to create a walkway. It was a fancy touch Tock's own home didn't have, but she lived in a tiny one-room cottage, unlike the larger families of four or more people that lived in these homes. Between parents and older children all having jobs, they had a bit more money to spend on such niceties. "Whaddya want?" Tock replied, clumsily tossing some dirt over her shoulder (and getting a lot of it down her shirt in the process). "I don't need nothing," Chet replied, continuing his work without looking up at her. "Unless you wanna pay me, get lost..." Tock wasn't so easily deterred. It was a little known fact that she was actually a rather stubborn woman. She kept on digging, starting to feel some strain already thanks to the improper way she was doing it. Her lower back was getting a twinge, and she knew she'd really be feeling it tomorrow. "Ya gots ta needs somethin'," she said. Everyone needed something. "Gots repair work 'round yer 'ouse? Needs me ta 'elp out wit' 'at?" Chet shook his head, trying to give her the cold shoulder. "C'moooooon! Jus' name it, an' I does it! Please?" "I told you, I don't need nothing," he said, using his shovel to try to dig out a rock. Tock sighed and knelt down to pull it out by hand (men could be so lazy, not realizing they were making a job twice as hard as it needed to be). She looked up at him and asked, "Nothin'? Pffft. Ya done gonna tells me, 'ere ain't one dang thing what in yer life what needs doin'? Come on, mate! Lemme does ya a favor!?" He stared at her, considering it for a moment. "Any favor?" he asked. "ANY," she replied. "'Cept what fer one's 'at's pervy, o' costs money, aye!" Chet paused, leaning on his shovel and scratching the back of his head. "Well..." Tock grinned and leaned forward, bouncing on her toes. Chet looked around to be sure no one was in ear shot, then leaned in close and said, "I got some gambling debts..." Tock frowned. Didn't anyone listen to her? "I ain't payin' her debts, bloke," she protested. Chet leaned closer and whispered, "Nah, nah, nah... I don't want you to PAY them... just..." he looked around again. "My wife doesn't know about it, right? But the guy I owe money too... he's one of those rough chaps off East Street..." Tock frowned deeper, wondering where THIS one was going. "He's been threatening to come to my home... I've got a kid, you know." Tock hadn't known that, actually. Though since Chet was only a few years older than her, she imagined the kid was quite young. "I don't want him coming around my family, right? I can pay him... I just need more time..." Tock nodded slowly. "So ya want I should get 'im offa yer back?" she asked. Chet nodded. "Yeah... I mean, you're one scary bitch sometimes Tock," he coughed, looking down and suddenly worried she'd be mad. But all she did was grin. "I don't want nobody to get hurt or nothing... Just get him to back off, give me a few more weeks..." Tock smirked and nodded. This sounded easy enough. "Sure thing, mate," she said. "Consider 'er done!"

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Chet's Favor The man Chet owed money to was named Worg (a name Tock was SURE was made up, it sounded so fake!) He ran one of East Street's gambling bars, where sailors, travelers, and people who felt down on their luck could go to try their hand at cards and dice, hoping to walk away with a pocketful of mizas. Of course, according to the tales Chet had shared about the man, it turned out he did NOT take kindly to people who couldn't pay their debts. While never quite breaking any obvious enough laws to warrant having his place shut down, he apparently threatened people, sent his employees to 'persuade' them to pay, and was known to perform 'repossessions' from time to time. And Chet didn't want his family threatened, or his home ransacked for Worg to reclaim what he was owed, so Tock was here to sort things out. She walked into the bar, hands planted on her hips, and looked around. She had waited until nearly a week later, after buying a boat with Nai. She had rested the rest of that day, drawing up plans for the boat and the waterwheels she planned to build for it. Then, when evening fell, and she was feeling restored from her exhaustion of the morning, she had headed down to take care of the more rough and tumble business. Though hopefully not too rough. At this point, her right hand was still aching and sore. She was recovered from the rest of her injuries from earlier in the season, but the hand was still giving her pains. She wouldn't be able to swing a punch with that side, though she always had Handy around to help out. She walked through the bar, looking around the card games going on. Tock wasn't much of a gambler, and she had more important things to do than waste her time on games. She'd come alone, except for Handy, Grippy, and Boxy, who she brought with her everywhere. She had considered bringing Choppy, since the Animated axe would be an ideal way to put a scare into Worg. But all things considered, she didn't want to murder the man unless she had to. She was more than willing to kill, for herself. But just as a favor to Chet? She couldn't see taking it that far. She sauntered up to the bar, and when the bartender asked her what she wanted, she simply said, "'Ere ta see Worg..." The whole bar grew quiet and turned to look at her.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock looked around the bar, noting the way people were reacting. She wasn't impressed. She was from Sunberth... there were bars in Sunberth where asking for the owner so boldly and directly like this would have had her beaten and on the floor already. She turned back to the bartender, arching an eyebrow, not at all scared by the way a few of the patrons were now eying her. They didn't have the 'feel' of men who were ready to kill her. Just men who were curious at her boldness, and intent on watching what happened next. "Worg's a busy man," the bartender said, polishing a mug. Tock snorted. He was staring her down in a way he thought was intimidating, but Tock didn't buy it. She actually laughed. The man wasn't even armed; she'd been in Sunberthan bars where the bartender served drinks with blades on his belt. This guy thought he could scare her? "Unless you want a drink, Miss, I'd suggest you move along..." Chuckling and shaking her head, Tock leaned her elbows on the counter. "Nah, nah, nah," she said, "I's 'ere ta see Worg. S'bout some money 'e's owed. Go fetch 'im." The bartender look surprised at her demand, and Tock felt more eyes on the back of her head. She leaned forward more, staring the man down. The look in her eyes was the look of a girl who'd been in more than one fight. The look of a girl who had killed before. While Worg's men had surely beaten up some people who were slow to pay, they weren't really that tough. The man leaned forward, trying to stare her down. Tock just tapped her fingers on the bar... and Handy mimicked the motion with his wooden fingers. The man looked down at the moving wooden hand, then back up at Tock, then back down at the hand. It slowly sunk in that he was dealing with a Magus... and one that was staring him down, and not backing off. Not showing any signs of discomfort or fear. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Just a moment," he said. He headed into the back room, and Tock just smirked.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"This way," the bartender said as he returned. He held the door open for Tock, and she walked past him with a smirk. She was led down a short hall, and then through another door into a small, well-furnished office. Worg, it seemed, did quite well for himself. Tock ignored the two guards at the door, except to note the swords on their hips. She also took no interest in the displays of gold-gilded artwork and the painting of the Zeltivan skyline hanging on one wall. She did, however, lean in to run her fingers across a small marble statue of a nude woman, admiring the craftsmanship (if not the lewd nature of the particular pose). "Can I help you?" Worg asked from behind his desk. Tock ignored him for the moment, noting a couple of minor flaws in the stone's smoothness, though they were subtle enough not to be noticeable to someone who wasn't a carver. Worg asked again, "Look, lady, I'm a busy man... are you here for something important, or just to ogle the art?" Tock finally looked up at him. She held her wrist out to the desk, and following the nonverbal prompt, Handy unstrapped himself from her and perched on the table top. When Worg saw the device crawling on his desk, he shifted his chair back, gripping the arms of his chair in fear. His guards stepped forward and Tock pulled out Grippy, touching his handle to extend his arm just a few inches, and brushing her thumb across the back to snap his claw. The men hesitated, and she stared them down for a long moment, making sure they knew she meant business. A Mad Magus was not something most people wanted to mess with. "Gots a friend what's name o' Chet," she said, turning her attention back to Worg. "Wants ya fer ta back offa 'im..."

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Worg ran a hand through his dark, greasy hair, leaning back in his chair. "Chet," he said, with a scratch of his dirty fingernails across his stubbly chin. "Chet owes me a lot of money, girly..." Tock sat down on the edge of the desk, Grippy held casually against her shoulder. Worg probably didn't realize from here that she could reach across the desk with her baby and not even need to lean over to do it. "Ya calls me 'girly' again, Guv," she said, her voice heavy with threat, "an' we's done gonna been 'avin' 'is conversation what wit'cher face under my boot, aye?" Tock normally wasn't quite this aggressive, but when dealing with a man who had two armed guards, she felt the need to step it up a notch. Those guards were easing their blades in their sheathes, but Tock paid them no mind. They were out of reach, and Grippy could snatch the blades from them faster than they could cross the room. Worg stared her down. She could tell she had him on edge, but he was still a man in control. This was his joint, the center of his domain, where he had his employees to back him up. Mad Magus or not, it was hard to fully scare a man like that. After a moment's hesitation, he settled on neutral civility. "No disrespect meant, Miss," he said, holding his hands out to the side. He still wore a calm expression of a man in control, but he wasn't trying to talk down to Tock. That was a start. "But as I was saying, Chet owes me a lot of money. I hope you're not here to try and convince me not to collect..." Tock sucked on her teeth for a moment, tapping her index finger up and down on the desk. Handy mimicked the motion, tapping in perfect unison with her rhythm. That threw Worg off balance a bit. While he was staring at the hand, Tock said, "I need ya ta back offa 'im. 'E's a pal o' mine. I dun take so kindly fer ta people puttin' pressure on pals o' mine." Of course, this was only half true. Chet was by no means her 'pal.' But she needed to get this done in order to get what she wanted out of him. Worg smirked, though it didn't touch his eyes, which still kept flicking nervously back to Handy. He sat back and steepled his fingers, then said, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss. Bad for business... If word gets out that I just let debts go free, I'm going to have--" Tock was tired of posturing. She decided it was time for some serious scares. She moved quickly, pulling the dagger from her belt and dropping it by Handy. Handy snatched it up, because he just loved holding things, and tended to pick up anything she put near him. He didn't really know how to wield a dagger, since she hadn't programmed him with that knowledge, but she HAD programmed him how to shake things threateningly at people (something Tock did qutie often.) He waved the dagger at Worg, who was so freaked out by the magic wooden hand with a knife that he dropped all pretense of posturing and pushed backwards, knocking his chair over and falling on the ground. Meanwhile, before the guards had time to react, Tock aimed Grippy at one and extended the metal arm to snap down on the hilt of the man's sword. She retracted the tool and snatched the blade from the man's grip. Then she slid her thumb down Grippy's handle to rotate his claw, swinging the sword up to a vertical hold, right against the second guard's neck. Tock didn't have a clue how to wield a longsword properly, and the guard could surely knock the blade aside with ease. But she was going for the fear factor here. The man had managed to get his sword drawn, but with a magic, extendable metal claw holding a blade on him, he was shaking in his boots. She also thought she saw a damp spot forming on his trousers. Tock smirked and looked between all three men. The disarmed one had his hands held up in surrender, the second guard was pissing himself, and Worg was now hiding behind his chair from the knife-wielding magic hand. The Mad Magus was clearly in control here.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

She needed to end this situation without a fight. Grippy couldn't possibly swing the longsword properly, Handy couldn't actually be a serious threat with the dagger, and Tock's sore hand wasn't going to be any good for throwing punches. But as long as she kept the men good and scared, she should have nothing to worry about. "Chet'll pay 'is debts," Tock said to the cowering gambler. "Jus' gots ta give 'im some time, aye? 'E's gots a kid ta feed..." She leaned forward a bit and started focusing the Djed in her mind, pushing it forth, channeling it towards Worg. Slowly his aura started to expand in her sight, yellow with fear, though with a tinge of red anger floating around it. She focused on it, concentrating hard. If he lied, she should (in theory) be able to pick it up based on his emotional changes. "Ya gives 'im more time, an' ya stays away from 'is family, aye?" She looked him right in the eye, partially to intimidate him, partially to challenge him should he dare to defy her, and partially because she needed all of her focus on the Djed flow to keep a clear reading on his aura. "I dun wanna 'as ta come back down 'ere, aye?" Worg slowly stood up and straightened his clothes, a slight tinge of blue shame leaking through his aura. No doubt he was a man not used to losing his poise. "Chet can have some more time," he said with some strain. "But... with respect Miss, he DOES need to make these payments..." He was trying to save face, and retain some sense of control. Tock stared him down, studying his aura. There was no shift in he colors. Yellow, red, blue... she wasn't sure if she knew what to look for to indicate 'deceit,' but there was nothing seeping through his aura that hinted at such a feeling. She cut off the Djed flow, holding her breath for a moment to conceal the signs of strain and fatigue from the brief but difficult study. Then she gave Worg a nod. She slid her thumb across Grippy's handle, rotating the claw to flip the sword back downwards, and held it out to the guard. He took it with a shaking hand, then flinched when the claw opened to release the blade, and the gears spun to retract the arm. "C'mon, baby," she said to Handy. He crawled over to her, clumsily dragging the dagger with him. Tock took it and sheathed it, then held her arm out for her baby to climb up. He perched on her shoulder, strapping his tail around her upper arm for balance. Holstering Grippy, she turned and left, with Handy waving goodbye to the men as she shut the door.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Wil Later in the day on the 14th of Summer, Tock was approached by one of the younger workers, named Wil. He was 19, an apprentice architect, and one of the more quiet, intellectual types. He was also studying architecture at the University, and working here to get some hands-on experience before he went off to design grander things some day. "Hey, umm, Tock?" he asked a bit bashfully. She looked up at him and arched an eyebrow questioningly. "I heard you were promising free favors... anything people want, if we help you carry some rocks?" Tock nodded. "Aye," she said, "big stone 'aulin'. Pretty 'efty work. Couple thousand pound boulder fer a statue. Ya done 'elps me out, 'at's one favor, any 'atcha wants..." "Well, there's something I need," Wil said. "Something I'd need a specialist for... but I can't afford one. But you're good at this stuff, so..." She waited for him to finish, then when he just trailed off, she said, "Spit it out, mate, I ain't gots all day..." Wil cleared his throat and said, "Well, see. I've got this old clock. A family heirloom. It's absolutely priceless!" Tock rolled her eyes at that, seriously doubting it was that valuable. "Well, okay, to our family it is, anyway," Wil corrected himself. "But see, it doesn't work. Hasn't in ages, for as long as I can remember. It belonged to my great-grandfather. I don't know what's wrong with it, but clocks are... expensive. Like a hundred mizas..." Tock knew how out of reach such a cost could be for most people, especially a young man like Wil who no doubt needed most of his pay to cover University tuition... Even repairing a well-made clock was probably worth something like fifty mizas. But Tock had the tools, and the time, and was willing to do the work to get another recruit. She nodded and said, "Aye, no problem. Might need a couple o' weeks, aye? But I's does 'er." Wil grinned and stepped up to take her hand in both of his. "Thank you!" he said, looking like he was about to hug her. "This'll mean the world to my Dad, really it will!" She nodded and gently pushed him off her. "Jus' dun ferget fer whatcha done gonna owes me, aye?" she said. He nodded in agreement. "I comes by yer 'ouse, pick 'er up tonight..."

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Later that afternoon, Tock walked home with Wil, prompting some curious reactions from his mother when he brought her inside their simple home. "Who's this?" she asked, eying Tock with a mixture of hope and, it seemed, disapproval. "Wil, you didn't tell me you were bringing home a... lady friend?" She wore a cautious smile, making Tock think Wil didn't often bring girls home... but at the same time, a grease-covered, sawdust-stained girl in rough work clothes probably wasn't the sort of girl she'd hoped for her son to bring home. No doubt she would have preferred a pretty little brainless thing with a short skirt and ribbons in her hair. Feh. "Hi, Ma. This is Tock," he said, gesturing to her. "She's from work, I told you about her? Tock, this is Ma." Wil's mom stepped forward hesitantly, extending her hand. As Tock extended her hand in return, the woman asked, "Th-the one with the--" she then looked down in shock to see she was shaking hands with a magic wooden hand strapped to Tock's wrist, "contraptions!?" Tock pulled her arm back, while Handy waved to the woman from her wrist. She immediately took a dislike to Wil's mom. People only earned her respect if they treated her babies with respect. She planted her hands on her hips and asked Wil, "Oy, the clock?" She wasn't interested in socializing here. "Your... your great-grandfather's clock?" Wil's mom asked. She looked even more concerned now. Wil just nodded and led Tock over to it. It rested on the mantle, an antique thing made from wood, with brass trim and hands. Tock immediately opened the little door in the front that protected the pendulum, and started poking around in it. Wil's mom pulled him aside, and in a whisper that wasn't quite low enough for Tock not to hear, asked, "What is she doing to our clock? It doesn't even work! And what's going on... are you... and she..." "Moooom!" Wil protested, rubbing his hands over his face. "Gah! No! She's one of my coworkers!" "Well... it's just... you never bring girls home, and she's just..." Tock felt the woman's eyes on her from behind and heaved an annoyed sigh. "I's fixin' yer bloody clock, Sheila!" she said in frustration, lifting it from the mantle and opening the little clasp on the face that allowed it to swing out, giving her access to the gears inside. "I ain't shaggin' Wil, 'e ain't my type..." The woman sputtered for a moment, then said, "My name is Raquel, and--" "Mom, its okay!" Wil interjected, stepping between them. "Tock's a professional. She does this sort of thing all the time, right Tock." Tock just made a disgruntled sound, no longer listening to either of them. But Handy gave a thumbs up.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Wil and his Ma debated for some time about whether Tock was his girlfriend, whether he wanted her to be his girlfriend, and whether he thought Tock was interested in him. She did her best to tune it out, having no interest in getting involved with some woman who seemed far too eager for her son to provide some grandbabies. When their conversation finally reached a high enough level of distraction that she couldn't stand any more, she headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Raquel asked. Tock ignored the question. She'd already told the woman she was going to fix the clock, so it should have been OBVIOUS! She was taking it home to work on it. She left Wil to deal with coddling his mother and assuring her that yes, the clock would be returned. She headed home, her gaze fixed on the clock's innards the whole time, and as soon as she got there she started making sketches. She had a broken clock of her own, though it had been partially stripped for parts over the last season or so. She would probably need a few gears out of it for replacement parts. She spent the rest of the night making sketches, along with lines of numbers jotted down noting the size of the gears, the distances between them, their alignment, and their estimated rotation speeds if the clock was made functional again. She pulled out a few loose gears with her gadgeteering tools, making careful note in her drawings of where the gear had originally been positioned and its alignment. Then she laid the gears on the page and traced them, making measurements on all sides of their exact dimensions, radius, perimeter, and the arc length of the gears.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Wil's Favor Every clock was different. There were mechanical rules for how certain things worked, but there were many ways to follow those rules. Just like 2 + 2 or 1 + 3 or 5 - 1 all equalled 4, there were many gear combinations that could be used for the same result of making a clock move. There was no standardization, no mass production, so each clock maker developed his own style. The first step to making the repair was understanding that style. She couldn't tell where the problem was, couldn't understand what WASN'T working, until she knew how of worked to begin with. It became a side project over the next few weeks. A few hours spent here or there, after work or between school assignments. She meticulously drew the insides of the clock, taking pieces out gently one at a time, sketching them, measuring them, jogging down numbers and adding to the overall design. Over the course of several sittings, she reverse-engineered the whole clock, until she had a full set of blueprints she could have used to build an identical clock from scratch. There was no obvious damage. No bent gears or broken springs. No reason at a glance why it shouldn't work. Once she had the entire design sketched out, she reassembled the clock and wound it up, letting the pendulum tick back and forth as she watched the gears move inside. She compared between her sketches of how it SHOULD have worked to what she was seeing before her, working out what was moving properly and what wasn't. The first, obvious solution was a misaligned escapement mechanism. This was easy enough to adjust, and when she did so, it started moving the gears smoothly, powered by the pendulum rocking the mechanism back and forth. Except that clearly wasn't enough, because there was no indication of why it had come loose. It took some time observing the innards of the clock to start to trace the problem. She watched it for a solid hour one night, trying to find out what the problem was. It ran smoothly for the whole hour, until one of the gears slipped, the cogs no longer holding the teeth of the adjacent gear. It spun uselessly, all the gears between it and the pendulum working just fine, but those between it and he clock hands now stilled without power. A few more minutes passed, until the misaligned gear cause misbalance that made others slip, until the escapement mechanism lost its alignment again. Now nothing was moving.