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Scatter-Brained; For Leafy
Topic Started: May 28 2013, 01:56 AM (150 Views)
Volksgeist
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SPACE SHAMAN
How?

How had he gotten there? What the hell was going on? Nathaniel leapt up from the curb on which he had been laying to find a number of well-dressed people leaping back in fear at the same time. A crowd had formed around the seemingly homeless man who had managed to pass out in one of the wealthiest areas of Voclain in just a pair of ragged pants and a stained jacket. They were all dressed well - the women were wearing corsets and dresses that plumed out at the bottom, parasols in hands, and the men were all clad in gentlemenly suits and tophats, with canes - some of which had been used to prod Nathaniel to wakefulness.

Now the man, with a large chunk of what had gotten him into the predicament, was left crouching somewhat with the orange-brown figure of Maurice wrapped around his throat in a nigh-deathgrip. There was a loud honk which caused him to stutter and stumble backward, falling flat on his butt again. A motorized carriage passed by, a couple of men laughing as they putted down the cobbled road, pointing at Nathanial. The crowd began to disperse, casting furtive glances over their shoulders.

Nathaniel looked around for a moment. His eyes swam across twisted, glass structures flashing brilliantly in the sun's splintering rays. Far off, he could see what seemed to be a gargantuan gear. He could hear the horns of boats as they entered or left a nearby harbor. Down the streets, he could see a line of motorized carriages parked outside what seemed to either be a brothel or an inn - perhaps it was both. With a name like "The Shady Lady," who could tell?

Rising to his feet again, Nathaniel felt a pain in his gut. It wasn't so much a sickness as it was a want... a want for the Chems he knew he had. HE could choose to take them or he could hold off and attempt to get a better grip on his current situation. The choice was his to make...
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Leafy

This was not where he had fallen asleep. "Maurice. Maurice, this is not right," he muttered, thankful that the weasel was protecting his neck. Or was it not right? It was too bright. He had slept in the dark, so this was not where he had fallen asleep. But sometimes, sometimes the light changed when he was not looking. Maybe this was just one of those situations.

It was too bright, and too loud, and he was itchy and unwell and hungry for things that were not food, and he fumbled -- he fumbled through his pockets, fingers closing around the soft and delicious form of a dead rodent -- but that was food, and he wasn't looking for f-

Shakily he shoved his hand into his bag, fishing about, pulling out a glass jar with a beautiful murky brown liquid in it and barely managing to unscrew that horribly-tight lid before downing -- no, no, he wasn't going to down the whole thing, he needed this for later --

The man struggled not to drink it all.
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Volksgeist
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Whoops, downed the whole thing...

Nathanial could feel the murky, brown "dirty Chems" swirling down his throat and into his stomach. It was cool and intense, like a quick shot of freezing alcohol - a burn in the back of the throat for a moment or two until... it hit.

There was a tingling up and down his spine and his tongue - for a moment, his tongue tasted like ashes. Then, his eyelid locked at about halfway. The tingling stopped. Touching his fingers to his palms felt like he was indenting them - soft, no pain. The shakes were slowly beginning to leave his body.
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Leafy

Okay. This was fine. He was fine. Everything was good, or at least everything was better. He looked down at the empty jar in his hand. That was one not-good thing, certainly. He was out of Chems. He began to recall something, and he opened his bag -- more carefully this time, tucking the jar away before reaching into one of the inner pockets and pulling out his money. Two gears sat in his palm. There wasn't much he could do with two gears, which was a rather big problem, because he had been running out of materials to use in his experiments. Yes, that was it. He had left his home to make money, he thought, as he put the gears back into his bag.

"Where is there to make money from around here?" he asked Maurice, who had relaxed a bit as well. Shops. Of course. Money was at shops. Shops had signs and people in front of them. He carefully made his way towards the one named after a woman in the shade, hoping no one would come out to hit him and chase him away.
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Volksgeist
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Nathanial moved toward the shade from his original vantage point and, as he neared the place known as "The Shady Lady," he could hear sounds from inside. From what he could tell, glasses were clinking and some sort of music was playing. He could hear a woman's voice, sultry and sensual, slowly crooning through the gaps in the windows and the open doorway. He rounded the doorframe and went inside, completely unabated by the doormen. It was interesting, in fact, that they hadn't stopped him. After all, they had just been standing there. Clearly, they had most likely seen him take the Chems. Regardless, he was in.

Inside, he moved parallel to a long, thin wooden bar. Men were crouched on bar stools like love-drunk gargoyles... who were also regular drunk as well. Many of them seemed to be simply staring off and sipping their drinks as if no one else was around. A few here and there were speaking in loud tones to hear one another over the music. Most of these men, however, were at the circular tables all around to his right. As his eyes wove between the tables, they finally met the bright stage where a full band stood. A woman in something feathery and sequined was belting into a microphone, her red lips luscious, her eyes casting winks at any who met hers. Behind her, four men played - there was a man on what seemed to be a mass of drums, two men on stringed instruments (though one was upright and the other was at a jaunty angle), and the fourth was sitting on a long black bench in front of a wide black piano with its top propped open.

His eyes swiveled around some more to see, at the far side, an opening that seemed to lead down a dim hall with doors on either side. There were stairs on either side of this aperture that led to a loft area in which two similar-looking apertures were. All of the halls were dimly lit with red lighting.

Then, Nathaniel realized someone was talking to him.

A man wearing a white shirt with a black tie and vest was wiping a clip clean with a rag. He had a friar cut, was slightly heavier set, and had a pencil-thin mustache. "Hey! Hey man, can I getcha somethin'?" It wasn't friendly, but it wasn't biting.
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Leafy

Okay. This was good. He had not taken a beating, that was definitely good. It was quite noisy in here, and the people in here were acting a bit strangely. It put Maurice on edge, and so he looked for somewhere more quiet to be, settling on a dimly-lit hallway that he began to approach.

But then there was a sound, and he turned around, squinting at the man in all of the white and the black. He had no idea what this man could get him. It didn't look like he would have bottles of toxic extracts in his pockets. Maybe he did. But Nathaniel wasn't certain he'd be able to pay for such a thing, anyways. "I have two gears and a couple of dead mice." The potion and the scalpel were his. No one would ever touch those. But he was here to find money, not use it. "Also good at making things if you need someone who can make things. Chemical things."
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Volksgeist
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The man behind the counter grumbled for a second as he watched what he assumed to be a ferret running off into the establishment. When Nathaniel piped up, he was drawn from his stare back to the extremely disheveled man. "I don't reckon you have any experience with uh... making some of this here?" The man pumped a thumb toward a long shelf covered in bottles of all shapes and sizes. He was clearly referencing alcohol. "Anyways, the problem is, we had a distillery downstairs. Our guy who used to work it for us, well, one day he just up and left. Said the devil juice was pissin' him off because all of our customers were derelicts. I mean, he came in here and asked for a job and then, a few months later, is all high and mighty about being 'better than the establishment.' Psssshhhhh... whatta douche. Anyways, kid, if you got the know-how to make anything on a chemistry set, chances are that making a little bit of moonshine will be a piece of cake for ya. What do ya say?" The man gave a half-hearted smile toward Nathaniel. Then, he added, "Of course, even if you say yes, you're gonna have to talk to Lola 'The Shady Lady' yourself. She'll be down in a minute or two for a break anyways." The man gestured toward the stage where the woman was still belting her sultry voice over the trilling jazz chords.
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