[Job Thread] Breakout?

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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[Job Thread] Breakout?

Postby Warren Tanner on October 28th, 2016, 9:32 pm

7th Bell- 29th of Autumn - Slaver's Row

Slaver’s row stirred reluctantly as it felt the warmth of the autumn sun that had burst through the fragile horizon, casting a shower of brilliant colours across the flawless sky, forging a medley of reds, oranges and even blues throughout. The streets glistened as the warm light danced along the cold dew that clung to any weeds that had forced their way through the trodden stone pathways of this bleak neighbourhood, bathing it in an orange glow. The city felt the closing grip of winter on its streets and wasn’t ready to embrace it, the sun reminded the city of warm days but the frosty air that hung around them made it clear they were long gone.

Warren walked the streets alone, taking comfort in a lit, smoking pipe that was clenched firmly between his yellowed teeth. His hands were balled up, deep within his coat’s pockets as he headed to work for his daily crust. “Y’alright there Warren?”, A voice called out as another set of footsteps joined his own and hurried alongside him. Warren titled his head curiously at the source of this company before turning back to the path, his curiosity sated. It was just Eric, one of Warren’s many co-workers. A tall, lanky man he was; a half foot taller then Warren with tightly curled copper hair and small strawberry strawberry nose with freckles splattered all across it. It was rumoured he had a feisty red-headed beauty for a sister who worked for Brega and her endless whores, that Nikali had spent so much time moulding her that she had to cobble to Eric at the last moment. Of course it was also said Eric slipped a blade between the ribs of any man who talked about his sister’s looks so Warren, a rather reluctant conversationalist at the best of times, never broached the subject with him.

“Mornin’ Eric”, Warren replied, rather monotonously before sucking on the tip of pipe, relishing the hot sour smoke that flooded his mouth, savouring it, before releasing into the fresh morning air in a long plume.
“I hear word abouts the place that ol’ Chubs found himself half of a dozen new slaves in Tent City. Course, I also hears that he charmed his way out of a date with ol’ Dira, he’s got a way with his words that’s for sure”, Warren found the long drawl that was Eric’s voice tiresome, but Warren at least liked the fact that he filled any conversation between them.
“Uh-huh”, He replied blankly.
“Still, I won’t weep none for those thieves in Tent City. One of them seers cheated me out of three day’s wages, got me all befuddled with those tarot cards then had some runts cut my purse while she told me I was gonna come into misfortune soon”.
“Yeah, won’t hear me cryin’ for ‘em”, Warren replied truthfully, recalling the number of times he been held up at knifepoint by some Tent City stray.

“Yep, don’t waste ‘em on them no-godders and their- Well, what do the Gods think is goin’ in here then?”, Warren looked up at the change in Eric’s tone as they turned a corner that lead into the very heart of Slaver’s row. A large crowd had gathered around one of the main pens that held the herd of slaves back, peering at something clearly interesting as the crowd buzzed, talking eagerly amongst themselves. “Those new slaves must be mighty interesting attract this many buyers”, Eric reasoned but Warren had his doubts.
“Nah, these don’t look like merchants”, He said, eyeing up too many skinny frames and frayed clothes “Something ain’t right here”.

The two men forced their way to the front of the crowd, ducking and weaving, or pushing if stubborn Sunberthian crowd refused to budge. As a young lad who had seen no more than ten winters swore loudly at Warren as he was shoved to the floor, the two mean stumbled to the front of gaping crowd and silence hung heavily between them for a moment as Warren’s mouth fell open, his pipe clattering to the floor in a chaotic cloud of ash and embers. Finally Eric spoke.

“We need to find the boss. Now.”
Last edited by Warren Tanner on November 4th, 2016, 6:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Job Thread] Breakout?

Postby Warren Tanner on November 4th, 2016, 6:08 pm

The two men sprinted through the cobbled streets of Sunberth in a blind panic, their hearts thumping in their chests, both of them gulping for air. Through dank back alleys and winding passages they went, and Warren found himself spotting other slave pens like his own, surrounded by onlookers as it was sight to tempting for secretive Sunberthian citizens. Finally, the sounds of their feet slapping the ground beneath them came to a gradual stop as they found themselves outside a rather small, well-kept building that neither jumped out or fit in with the surrounding neighbourhood.

Two burly men stood at the door, no doubt deciding who gained entry to it. Both of their eyes flashed with interest as Warren half-jogged up to the door, his face bright red and his chest heaving with each breath but only one stoop up straight to greet him. He was bald as an egg, not a single hair could be found on his scalp, chin or brow, and his constantly furrowed brow and thick neck that seemed to just melt into his broad shoulders made the guard look like a permanently angry thumb.

“Which pen are you from?”
He asked with a voice so deep and disapproving it was almost comical.
“Seven” Warren said between two deep breaths before beginning to ask “How man-“.
“All of them, nearly, only a couple of the pens left to report in”
, the guard replied “The boss is really pissed, he’s in there now screamin’ at all you that arrived this mornin’”.
“And the one’s arrived for night duty?” Eric asked with a sliver of fear in voice that Warren shared.
“Chubs has had most of 'em rounded up last I heard” He said, his face breaking into a toothy grin as his fellow guard snorted with amusement “We’re takin’ bets”.
“On what?”
Warren asked coldly.
“On what’s he’s gonna do to ‘em, I’m feelin’ a flayin’ m’self” He said, his disapproving tone turning into one filled with relish as expression turned back to one of disinterest “Now get in there and let the boss know he’s lost another dozen slaves”.

Warren glared at the bald guard as he stepped forward to push open the heavy, worn wooden door from which he could hear muffled shouting. The door groaned as it swung open and from within the shouting erupted.
“All of them! Upped and vanished! Not a single fucking slave left in my pens!”
There were over twenty fully grown men in the office, toughened men, hardened by the streets. But as Warren and Eric pushed forward to the front of the crowd he saw that none of them met the eyes of the short, squat man who was hunched over a solitary desk, his face was turning a deeper shade of plum with every word he spat while his fat knuckles pounded the expensive looking surface of his desk.

“Nothing? Not one of you cockless fleabags have anything to say?” He paused, looking up for a reaction but he got nothing except men clearing their throats. It was at this moment Warren finally found his voice and spoke out “Boss, we’re from slave pen seven, its empty too”, though he immediately regretted informing the slave dealer this. A second later the slaver dealer had slipped a finely crafted steel dagger from his belt and raised it. Warren tensed as up as he anticipated it flying in his direction but instead the stout man rammed it into the surface of his fine desk and left it their, shuddering slightly. The mood in the room did not relax.

“You may notice that a few are missing from your group” He began through clenched teeth “I’m debating whether to have them flayed, hung or just chucked on the Slag Heap once I've rounded them all up”, He looked around are the faces of the his mercenaries as the room became even more tense before continuing “Regardless of what horrible fate awaits your fellows, I want my slaves back, I want the perpetrators found and I any collaborate regret the day their mother’s pushed them into this miserable world. I don’t care how they are found, dogs, trackers, informants. I don’t care if you threaten whores, beggar, orphans. No-one steals from Chubs Tyrannus and lives!”
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[Job Thread] Breakout?

Postby Warren Tanner on November 18th, 2016, 7:18 pm

”Are all of Tyrannus’s goons as moronic as you two are?” An exasperated voice pondered over the raucous barking that filled the kennels.

Warren glared down at the girl, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest like any man with delusions of how physically intimidating he was. “Look love, I don’t need your attitude. Can these mutts help us or not?” He asked, clearly irritated as he gestured to rows of cages, each containing a pair of curious, excited dogs that poked their wet noses through the bars of their cage as someone walked past. Eric was only too happy to let Warren do the talking and stroke the dogs through the cages.

As the word mutt passed Warren’s lips the girl rested her hands of her hips and gave him look that made him wither inside a little bit, though he tried his best not to show his discomfort. “My dogs”, She began, emphasising each word she spoke “Can track down a man in a hundred acres of woodland. But they can’t help you with your missin’ slaves, tell Chubs to hire better guards next time”.

Warren’s nostrils flared as he meet Hannah’s stern gaze. That girl had grown more fiery with each year since Killroy had died. Not that Warren mind the change, Killroy had always made the man feel uneasy and as a child Warren had been warned away from the kennels by his father. It wasn’t much of a problem as he grew up, after a couple of wild dogs had put Warren off animals he seldom had any need to visit a kennel. “If your mutts are so good, why can’t they help us track down a few starvin’ slaves?” Warren demanded.

Hannah let out a frustrated sigh “Okay, do you morons have a scent these dogs can track?”
“A what?” Warren asked blankly.
“Some clothing, a blanket, anythin’ my dogs can sniff?” She explained.
“No” Warren admitted.
“There are a few blankets back at the pens” Eric revealed, looking up from the kennels.
“I bet not enough for all of them, they probably share them through the night” She said, looking to Warren as he reluctantly nodded, agreeing with her assessment with some unwillingness “So my dogs would have to deal with a dozen different scents without knowin’ which ones to track. They can’t help you.”

Warren clenched his teeth, his face contorting with frustration as he start to pace back and forth. “Can’t… Can’t they at least point us in the right direction?” He asked, grasping at straws but Hannah just shook her head.
“What direction? You think a dozen slaves are just gonna run off together? What would you do if you were them?” She asked.
Warren disliked the idea he would ever be a slave, but he played along with her “I would… head for the docks, smuggle myself onto a ship” He said with some uncertainty.
“And you?” She asked, pointing at Eric.
“Uh, well Miss I’d probably find some friends to hide me. Wait for all the trouble do die down” He said and suddenly Warren grasped her point.
“We’d all split up” He blurted out as Hannah slowly clapped her hands at Warren’s epiphany.
“Exactly, you want me to tell my dogs to follow a scent of half a dozen different people that go off in different directions. I’m telling you, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

Warren tried to think of something to say but he couldn’t, the look of defeat finally fell on his face and wordlessly he turned around gestured to Eric to follow him.
“Eric, time to head to the whore house”.
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Warren Tanner
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