Cerapa:
While your attire afforded you instant recognition as one of the Technomancers, turning up earlier than most still did not allow you the chance to get ther before others, allowing yourself to try and slip in as a guild representative. There was another man here too, another Technomancer, one who was arguing with one of the Peelers before another of the gates leading into the place. He had likely had the same idea as you, though he was animatedly yelling at the officer, about how biased everybody was against the Technomancers.
It was only to be expected however, as you were a member of the lesser of the two guilds, with Clockworkers being given undue respect for simply having the audacity to stitch some ridiculous looking cog onto their clothing. So what if they had made the network of gas lights that kept the streets safe and bright, so what if they had made those automatons that strode around the city being loud and obnoxious.
So what if they held a fair number more chairs than you in parliment, they didn't risk life and limb to research bigger and better explosives, means to slow progress of the taint in victims to prolong their life. They didn't create wonderous power sources that even those inefficient automatons couldn't hope to burn out without a full years active service before it required changing. They didn't even know how to get loud and obnoxious right - the Technomancers had that down to an art.
These words drifted through your conscious mind as you heard them, every one of those points ringing true with you. You suspected with just how effortlessly those words had invaded your thoughts that the man was more than he seemed, yet he clearly wasn't enough of what he seemed, if he couldn't get past a simple policeman.
With a nod towards you, the man resigned himself to sitting atop one of the walls nearest the fence that had been erected, telling you ahead of time that these men were not as stupid as they looked. The officer before you however, looked at you expectantly after having shrugged off the outburst of the more volatile guild member.
"Would you care to state your business here, sir?" came the mans words, words that bore the tones of indifference.
Armok:
You were cutting it close with wrapping up your act, with taking a bow for the unappreciative crowds, the slack jawed masses who couldn't have hoped to appreciate the art you had presented them if they had two braincells to rub together. Hurrying through the city as you held onto your hat no doubt meant that a multitude of wonderous, mundane and downright dangerous experiences had passed you by, yet hurry you did.
Odd a figure as you struck, you passed beneath many peoples notice, with the more perceptive of them nodding towards you, making comments about how you must've been mad as a hatter, then promptly forgetting that you had ever existed. The ones who noticed you most frequently however, were none other than children, children who turned to grin at you as you hurried by with the occasional cheerful wave of your hand. Was it something that came naturally, or was it all part of the act?
They would never know, but they would certainly wonder!
You were presented with something of a dilemma, with the safest way naturally being the longest way, with the faster of the routes being through the alleys were any number of undesireables could be found. Was it worth the risk to avoid being fashionably late?
Nirur:
An older man stood nearby, one with greying hair who grumbled as he looked at the various posters that had been put up on the wall. While one could have assumed that he was looking at the things as anyone else, the manner in what he started to nudge posters aside to check what tattered things were beneath them suggested that he was looking for the posters the Queen had supposedly sent out.
That, or he was looking for one of the tattered posters that advertised work at one of the local workshops, one of the places in what rows of machines noisily spun away as they churned out their wares. Places like that were always looking for fresh people, to replace those that could no longer operate the machines due to catching limbs in them. "Ah, bugger it all!" the man eventually snapped as he clawed down a handful of posters and cast them to the ground, leaving a faded and forgotten poster half exposed advertising a tonic that would supposedly help with violent outbursts, amongst other things.
It was clear enough that if there had been anything you could have immediately found in the way of work amongst the advertising, that it was laying in the mass of paper the man had cast down.
((Hopefully I'm not overstepping a line with doing the basic running around in this manner, where more RPish actions haven't been actively specified.))
Author
Topic: For Queen and Country! (Read 12698 times)