IC - UtVoV - Killing Kiddaw

[tibbius]

Chones
Chones smiles, flirting with the green-skinned Cacogen. Thanks, sister. Maybe me an' my friends can help your cousin outta this mess he's gotten into. We'll go talk to him.

How does Chones respond to F9's question?

[Urson]

Chones
As good as any.

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret hails a passing jitney wagon to take them to an abattoir where they might pick up some camel femurs, fresh and cheap. As they're being bounced along the streets, Foulqueret makes small talk with Chones, "Typical of this sort of work, isn't it? Plenty of risk, and only a few crumbs of information to go on. Paid for with promises that often fail to deliver. Still, for a synth, it provides a desirable opportunity to pursue one's own agenda."

Revolving their head in a way that is meant to indicate the vast blue sands surrounding the city, they continue, "Somewhere out there is something worth looking for, and I hope to be the one who finds it. But for that, I need to knowledge, skills, and resources that I do not currently possess.

"And you? What brought you to this line of work?"

[tibbius]

Bones first ... you pass innocently through the streets, avoiding a fatal stabbing and an ensuing beatdown of bystanders by a few of the Baron's militia. A purveyor of intoxicants, her hair wrapped into a complicated conical knot of braids, tries to convince you that it would be fun to be zombies for a day. Two camels pass you, plodding obstinately along the street, their heads bobbing forward and back and forward again, their goad running breathlessly beside them, whacking them ineffectually with his stick.

You get to the Abattoirs. There's no nice way to describe the smell, so I won't try. The visuals are similar to the smell. Locals of this district seem accustomed to the environs, but you might wonder what their dreams are like. Animals anticipating slaughter make noises.

A dealer of scraps sells you a camel femur for two of Foulqueret's ceramic shards. You head over to Dumptruck Lane.

Heaps of bluish cobblestones loom alongside the lane that leads past the Public Roads Department headquarters. Several large pink-orange dumptrucks also hulk beside the stoneheaps. A couple of cacogens appear to be struggling to change the tire on one of the trucks. One of the two is extremely muscular, and is wrestling the tire off the wheelstuds, while the other one casually juggles five lug nuts with two oddly flexible hands.

Do you greet them, or continue onward looking for the Foreigners?

Also, we kind of crossposted here - are you still in the jitney on Dumptruck Lane?

[Pulpatoon]

Perhaps we took the jitney to the Abattoirs, and walked from there to Dumptruck Lane.

Foulqueret leans towards Chones and whispers, "I will attempt a goodwill protocol with the locals."

From a respectful distance, he call out to the tire-changers, "Good afternoon! Do you need a hand, there? You're clearly up to the task, but a few extra hands will make a quicker job of it!"

[Urson]

Chones
When they started walking from the abattoir, Chones will offer F a ride.

When F makes his offer, Chones will give him a joking sidelong glance. What's this "we" business, Tick-Tock? Sounds like you're volunteering me... He grins as he says this, his useless brown eye rolling to stare at the sky. IF the cacogens accept the offer, he'll lend a hand.

[tibbius]

"Naar, I gots it!" bellows the muscular tire changer. Indeed, he wrestles the big wheel off the hub and pushes it over so that it topples with a ground-shaking thump. "Nah Sidneigh, gets ya in da brakes, eh?" he adds to the juggler.

Sidneigh, assuming that's his name, carefully puts the lug nuts on the rim of the wheel and removes a socket wrench from a nearby neon-green toolbox. He begins to work on removing the brake calipers from the hub. He doesn't seem interested in conversation.

"Sa whatcha want?" asks the big cacogen, wiping his hands vigorously on his yellow overalls and leaving smudges of tire-dirt as he does so. He approached Chones and Foulqueret at a leisurely place, extending a massive hand toward Chones, as if expecting a shake. "Lookin for work? We're not hirin."

[Urson]

Chones
Not really. We were passin', decided to offer a hand iffen ya needed it.

He looks around, just taking in the scenery. I hear there's a pride of New-lions around here- they think they're Angels from Hell or summat. Ever have any trouble with 'em?

[tibbius]

He looks around, just taking in the scenery. I hear there's a pride of New-lions around here- they think they're Angels from Hell or summat. Ever have any trouble with 'em?

"... Haar." says the big fellow thoughtfully. He twitches his vaguely leporine features, cracks his knuckles before answering. You notice that he has an unusually thick and prominent lower jaw, as well as an excessive number of slender yet strong-looking fingers. "... Hoosaskin? Why?"

[Urson]

Chones
Chones smiles, turning on the charm. Easy, friend. I'm not lookin' for a tussle. My name's Chones. I've dealt with new-lions before- some of 'em can be right bastards, an' some of them are good- umm- people. I was just curious.
If my partner and I stir up any shite, I'll make sure none of it gets on you, ok? i never saw you, much less talked to you.

[tibbius]

Chones
Chones smiles, turning on the charm. Easy, friend. I'm not lookin' for a tussle. My name's Chones. I've dealt with new-lions before- some of 'em can be right bastards, an' some of them are good- umm- people. I was just curious.
If my partner and I stir up any shite, I'll make sure none of it gets on you, ok? i never saw you, much less talked to you.

Please roll 1d20+EGO - the target is > 15, if you miss by more than 10 (5 or less) then there's a complication beyond not getting what you want.

[Urson]

Chones

[1d20]=16+6

[tibbius]

Chones

[1d20]=16+6

"Waal howdee, Chones!" exclaims the muscular cacogen. His smile shows teeth that are like thick ridges of enamel, all molars without notable gaps. "Yam Grundy!" His handshake is ... shockingly gentle. Apparently he does know his own strength. "So whatcha want with da newlyin's?"

[Pulpatoon]

While Chones engages with Grundy, Foulqueret wanders over to the other cacogen and quietly inspects the tire-changing operation, to see if they can be of use.

[tibbius]

While Chones engages with Grundy, Foulqueret wanders over to the other cacogen and quietly inspects the tire-changing operation, to see if they can be of use.

It appears to be more of a brake-shoe replacement, the wiry little cacogen is busily removing the drum from the wheel hub. "Hey spiky head," she says cheerfully. "Wassup?"

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret: Hello, um, bumpy-face. Thank you for your interest. At the moment I have some idle time, and wondered if I might be of some assistance? I have moderate familiarity with such operations, and I am told that many hands make for light loads via the principle of distributive labor.

[tibbius]

"Og, hey, yeah," she says, still cheerfully, "my name is Sidneigh, and who are you? Those pinchy hands look handy, could you hold the shoe right here while I pull out the pins?" she gestures to the parts she's talking about. "So whatcha want round here?"

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret: I am Foulqueret, precipitate of the Segarus seed. I'm pleased to meet you, Sidneigh.

The little synth kneels down and holds the shoe steady.

Foulqueret: Easily done. Sidneigh, my partner and I are here in pursuit of business. We are freelance operatives, or what some might refer to as Adventurers. We are seeking conversation with a pride of lionforms that reside in the area. We understand that they can be... unwelcoming if caught in the wrong mood. Do you happen to know the sapients to whom I refer?

They heft the camel femurs demonstratively.

[tibbius]

Sidneigh chuckles a little harshly. "You don't look like a prospect," she says, "or like dinner, a prostitute, or a drug vendor. I figger you'd be New Business for the Foreigners. They are a bit conservative in dealing with folk, might even say reactionary. Reckon, that camel bone you gots there, that'll get 'em riled up wif each other an' happy wif you. 'less they blame you for rilin' em up. But they prob'ly won't think of that. Them newbeasts aint so smart, y'know?"

[Pulpatoon]

Foulqueret: I see. Perhaps it would be prudent to sub-divide the femur before presenting it to them. Or would that diminish its attractiveness?