Clockwork Thief[IC]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Zeraj, Nov 23, 2013.

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  1. OOC Thread and Application

    The streets of Secunzo were not pretty by any means. One may describe it as refuge of sin and corruption, but at least it was honest about it. The higher districts of Minutcia and Huorezia were just as sinful and corrupted if not more. They just have a better way of covering it up. The sounds of machinery interlocking and turning were heard throughout each districts. It was certainly loud, but the denizens of Vinceza had long gotten used to each whirring sounds of gears and the occasional clack of jamming clockworks. Vinceza was no doubt a city of constant movement. But within these walls and clockwork mechanisms, many eyes watched. They were the eyes of the Watch Duke spread throughout the cities like shadows. They were the High Hands, hidden agents of the Duke.

    One of these men stalked from above. This particular Hand had eyes on a certain person. A man with indistinguishable features walked casually among the beggars and workmen. The Hand knew of this one and knew he was an enemy of the Duke. Optical lenses flipped over it's eyes and he observed closer. The man below had gray eyes which weren't that uncommon in Vinceza. The Hand felt like gouging them out and ending this mess but it had orders to only watch. There seemed to be a flicker of a grin and the man disappeared around a corner of a building. The Hand immediately clicked off his optical lenses and began running along the rooftops towards the man's position. There were small sounds of gears turning and ticking from the Hand's body. It had finally reached a buildings ledge where he assumed the man would be seen below. The Hand crouched over and peeked towards the ground. There was nothing. Not a single soul was below him. It was confused, and then a loud metal wrenching noise came from within him. It looked down and saw a clockwork sword jutting out of it's chest. The Hand turned around and saw a two gray eyes and a wide smiling face.

    "Lovely day isn't it. Weathers a bit on the cold side, but I expect you don't even feel enough to care." The man wrenched his sword out of the Hand's chest. It fell on the ground and began to bleed. Small springs and complex clockwork mechanisms were exposed to the world. "I never get tired of prying one of you open. Each one is so intricately made and all entirely unique. But I can tell you were new and quite sloppily made." The man looked closely into the exposed surface. "I do say you had only a week at most, the way you were built. The Duke must need a lot of throwaways for grunt work. I don't blame him. It is truly wasteful to send something worthwhile and finding it broken. Anyway, I got to be going. Important business and all." The man beheaded the hand with a single flourish and stomped the head until only heap of blood and metal remained. His clockwork sword folded into a smaller form and he hid it in his coat.

    He hopped off the roof and headed towards a building with a red spring sticking out above the door. There was a clock on a door. He set it to 3:17 and turned the minute hand twice until it reached 3:28. Movement shifted behind the door and it opened. The Clockwork Thief went inside the darkness and was still grinning. "Oh, there's so much work to be done. The fucking Duke won't know what hit him."
     
    #1 Zeraj, Nov 23, 2013
    Last edited: Nov 24, 2013
  2. The one good thing about being a tiny runt, it was easy to become invisible when you wanted to. Lysel hid in the many nooks and crannies of the city, the tiny spaces between all the machinery, great gears and mechanisms threatening to crush her bones if she so much as stood up. The girl watches from a teeny tiny crack as the infamous Clockwork Thief disappears into the building.

    She feels a compulsion to follow after him, but decides to wait it out. Who knows? Maybe the next soul to open that door would be another Hand...
     
  3. Night at the brothel was busy tonight. One by one, customers came in and out, in more ways than one. Pietro yawned as he slipped his coat on, prepared to leave without telling his madam. His body was sore, and he didn't want to deal with the annoyance of the overly demanding customers. The young man could only do so much in one night, and the clients' tips were terrible.

    Pietro went out into the air, breathing in its less than savory aroma. Blood, vomit, liquor, etc. Pietro could smell it all in one whiff. He sighed contently, walking down the street, being careful to remain in the shadows. If he wasn't mindful of his surroundings, Pietro's blood could end up joining the other stenches that enveloped the city. Not that he mind. In fact, the thought almost excited him. But, dying was not on Pietro's schedule for tonight. He had business that needed to be done. He kept his hand in his pocket, where one of his daggers were laying snug in his coat. Pietro double checked around himself before glancing at the piece of paper crumpled in his palm.

    He kept his eyes open for a door with a red spring sticking out from its surface. 'Red. A lovely color,' Pietro mused, the color sticking out the most to him amongst the grey and other dull colors of the city. There were some people still out on the street, their faces obscured from Pietro's view. Though it all seemed depressing and dangerous, Pietro was used to this lifestyle. Being abandoned by one's parents and left to remain in an orphanage amongst the grime and crime of the city didn't leave a healthy mark on one's life. Though, Pietro learned to adapt to this particular lifestyle. After what felt like a long time, Pietro made it to his destination. The red string contrasted beautifully with the dark, metal door, welcoming Pietro's arrival. The clock on the door was turned to 3:28. Someone was probably here already. Carefully, Pietro reset the clock to 3:17, as he was instructed. 'Turn the minute hand clockwise to 3:28...,' he thought as his hand obeyed his thoughts. At first, Pietro worried that he didn't do it correctly when nothing happened, but the sound of the hinges unlocking and gears turning made Pietro smile to himself.

    Silently, he walked into the hideout, letting the door close behind him. "Is anyone here?" he whispered softly, unable to see well in the darkness.
     
  4. The beautiful art of clockwork; the persistent ticks, the occasional clatter and the constant hum of many gears as the moans of varied mechanisms resound off of the walls of Vinceza. Only in Secunzo, where corruption evidently shone, was this beauty noticeable. Against the city that was seemingly built out of sin, and in the district that hones the debauchery and violence it is made out of the elusive Watch Duke sends his eyes, the High Hands, to scrounge the pitiful district, thus tainting the sinful beauty as the coils and gears that cry to one another with clockwork on their tongue. However, through all of the oppression and treachery, perfection seems to find its homely face in the middle of it all. Above the wicked city stands the three flawless hands that steal time, though with his hands on his face and his eyes on the ground, one wonders if the unappealing elements of Secunzo will ever scathe his face, for without the tongue of clockwork, no moans or screams will escape him.

    In the shadows was where the beauty of clockwork was most prominent. And in the shadows was where the lady who wore the darkness extensively slithered. Pale eyes glowed and faded in their depths as screams were silenced and life was spilled out of corpses. The death of her victims were quick and the bodies resembled broken marionettes. Traces of blood glistened on fingertips in the darkness as Shadow rummaged through the men's pockets for valuables. Only a few dinky coins laid flat in her palms. She looked up. The hands on the face were winding on and it was nearly the week's end. Somehow, this shadow had gotten herself looped in between the coils of Sir Jacque crew. The stories of the Clockwork Thief had interested this lady quite a bit and she had taken care to eavesdropped on the stories with high curiosity. When Sir Jacque had introduced himself as such the man, Shadow had doubts. The argument he made was promising though he somehow related to the coins in her palms; flat and dinky. He held her curiosity, true, but there was something about his goal and promise that seemed flat and something about him that seemed dinky. She blinked at the spiteful tower and sunk deeper into the shadows. The flesh and blood of the Clockwork Thief that Sir Jacque claimed would only prove or refute itself if she were to make her way towards the Watchmaker's Block.

    Night shadows concealed her as she pranced from alley to alley. In the moonlight flaws on buildings glimmered and Shadow's eyes caught every one as she searched for the crimson flaw. A grey door that hung off center, a gold nut shone bright among silver nuts that bordered a inky door, gears didn't touch, pulleys weren't always circular and finally a crimson spring jutted out of a dark, sleek metal door. Pale hands set the clock to 3:17 and twisted it clockwise twice before landing on 3:28. All the while, ears strained for strangers and suspicious personnel that dare approach her. Luckily, Shadow didn't have to stain her hands any more than they already were, for the heavy gears started to turn behind the door and soon enough the door was unlocked and the darkness inside welcomed her. She accepted its invitation and folded herself away in the abyss, shutting the door behind her and waiting for something to happen.
     
    #4 Aetherea, Nov 24, 2013
    Last edited: Jan 7, 2014
  5. Pietro's attention was directed to behind him. Oh? Was there another guest? He contemplated on who it may be. A friend? Or a foe? Perhaps, a Hand? Pietro's hand was still on his blade. He squeezed its handle between his hand. You can never be to sure. Plus, Pietro was in the mood for some fun. "Hello," was Pietro's reply to the stranger behind him. He didn't turn around. It was too dark to see the individual, anyway. Pietro waved his free hand in the air.

    "Can you see in here, friend? This creature is unable to look around in such darkness. Perchance, you have a lighter?"
     
  6. Jacque chuckled softly as he heard them enter. Sounds carry so well within his humble abode, and he knew each and every nuance of it. The subtle yet detectable changes rang out like small bells. He wonder if they could manage through the shadows. The initial room was quite small and looked like a storage room, littered with broken clockwork, scraps, and carious half finished furniture. There wasn't a single thread of light to reveal the features of the room. In the center of the room there was a trapdoor hidden by it's carpentry and design. Beyond it would be a ladder that lead straight down into his true lair. Jacque certainly hoped they could figure it out in a timely fashion. He had grown a bit bored and began flipping a dagger in the air and catching it with his other hand. A sudden thought occurred to him. Had he forgot to disarm the trap near the entrance to his lair. A grin began cracking through his lips. "If they can't past that measly contraption, then they are probably quite useless against the Duke." With that thought finished, he added another dagger into his activity and soon was juggling four of them.

    At the same moment in the other side of Secunzo, a man was hurrying along. He was shriveled and old, but carried himself with suprising vigor. Within his grasp was a rolled parchment with an unusual seal enclosing it. He moved quickly, precisely, and quietly, weaving across the crowd like the wind. He did not look threatening, nor impoverished, just aged and seemingly kind. But deep within his eyes a weight was kept. The certain way he held the parchment against his body was one hint towards this. He had a responsibility, a duty to perform with utmost caution and speed. Eyes slid off him as brushed past many until he was distracted at a quick movement to the side. His body bumped against someone else and he dropped the scroll. The other man, a large hulking creature with biceps as large as the old man's head, stared at him in anger. He too had dropped his own scrolls. The old man quickly snatched up a scroll and began rushing away. The larger one screamed profanities at the old man. When the old man was out of sight, the man picked up his own bundle. One of them had a particularly strange seal. The shape was circular and quite intricate. The large man continued on to finish his job. The old man was nearly running. His pace was so fast, sweat began to bead down from his brow. There was an odd sensation in his hands. He looked down in outright horror. His finger pressed against a seal that was not correct. The old man screamed in anguish and threw the scroll aside. He looked left then right and began rushing back towards where he bumped into the large man. The large man was nowhere to be seen. The old man eyes now showed something of a different nature. His body was tensed, and his throat felt encircled by a noose. He felt truly as if he was drowning. He was a dead man walking if he couldn't retrieve the scroll in time. The old man breathed in and there was a change in the air. People around him began looking around trying to find the cause of the disturbance. The old man's eyes scanned the area and his body followed age old exercises long neglected. He began to track the large man. His eyes colder than iron and body as fluid as a snake.
     
    #6 Zeraj, Nov 27, 2013
    Last edited: Nov 27, 2013
  7. Pietro sighed when he did not receive a sound from the person behind him. Pietro felt around the room, just in case he was over thinking the whole situation and a light switch was nearby. Pietro frowned. There was no switch within reach. He had to try another alternative. Pietro dug in his pockets, trying to find something useful. His bad habit of smoking proved handy for his current predicament. Pietro pulled out his lighter, dragging his thumb against the wheel. With three strokes of his thumb, it lit, providing a small amount of light. 'Any amount of light is better than none,' Pietro thought.

    The room was smaller than Pietro initially thought. Each corner and wall was covered by various clockworks and pieces of furniture Pietro couldn't care less about. There was nothing of importance within the room. It was bland in decor and color, much like the city it was located in. Pietro didn't fret, though. There was always something there, past the boring exterior. With one step forward, Pietro left a string against his ankle. The life sized nutcracker beside the entrance began to move on its own, the sound of rusty gears moving emitting from its core. Its crossbow unlocked, aimed straight at Pietro's chest. Pietro sliced the arrow down its middle with one of his daggers. He kept his feet steady on the floor, bending his legs to keep himself from falling over. His cheek were grazed by the arrow's sharp flint, blood trickling from his freshly made wound. When the nutcracker went back to its previous position, Pietro smiled. "Good job, my friend! This creature is grateful to have brought his Glock knife today." Pietro moved his head back in ecstasy, his cheeks taking on a rosier tint and his eyes dancing wildly. "How absolutely wonderful! Blessed be this day!" After a minute or so, the adrenaline rush passed. Pietro sighed heavily. Although the nutcracker brought his spirits up, he was still confused of his situation. Plus, his lighter's flame went out went he dropped it during the counterattack.

    Sniffing the air for anything suspicious, Pietro could smell a hint of sweat, coming from below. He bent closer to the floor, following the scent of sweaty skin. It was a familiar smell to Pietro, one he experienced at the brothel too many times. Pietro grimaced, preferring to block the thoughts out of his mind. As much as he loved the human anatomy, some of the male and female clients emitted a godawful stench. This particular sweat, however, was different. Almost addictive to the senses. But, where was it coming from? Pietro's eyes widened. Beyond the floorboards. Pietro grinned at his discovery. Now, to find a way past them...Pietro pulled at the only rug that laid across the floorboards. Perhaps there was something underneath? He felt it barbaric to rip apart the wood from where he stood, especially if someone provided him a way down. Underneath the rug, he noticed how some parts of the center planks appeared different looking from the others. Crawling over to the planks, he poked them curiously.

    "I believe this creature has found the rabbit's hole to Wonderland," he murmured, pulling the trap door back. A ladder was revealed behind the small door, leading down to a hideout. Pietro dropped one of his used Glock knife down the hole, checking its depth. The clattering sound appeared sooner than ten seconds. Pietro snorted at his tactic. You could never be too careful. With a hint of happiness, Pietro climbed down the ladder. The cheerful lad had almost forgotten the individual who came in after him, being so preoccupied with the trap and finding a way down.

    Pietro picked up his Glock knife, sliding its sheath back on and shoving it back into his pocket. He surveyed the newly found area. In the corner, he noticed a man of average height, juggling four daggers with ease. Pietro became immersed in the sight. "Amazing..."
     
    #7 Matvey, Nov 28, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 29, 2013
  8. Lysel realized she had better get a move on. More suspicious than someone hiding in a tiny nook was someone hiding in a tiny nook, staring at a door with an odd locking mechanism on it.

    Peering in all directions, she quickly makes her way down to a nearby alley. Few notice here, and she makes sure it stays that way as she blends in the crowds like a lioness in tall grass, sans the predatory instinct. The tiny girl reaches up to the clock. 3:17, clockwise twice to 3:28. She slips inside, into the darkness.

    Was this a good idea? She'd found out soon enough. At the very least, she would die knowing she'd tried.
     
  9. Pale eyes swept the room. Faint silhouettes were the only things marked in the inky darkness. Still, these silhouettes were, minding and tending to their own business ignoring the intruder that had breached the crimson spring door. Correction, all but one of these silhouettes stood ignorant. This silhouette was no more than a few feet away from Shadow and was blatantly not a fine piece of clockwork, for its figure held a human-like quality and the outline of the blade in its hand seemed to shimmer in the darkness. With eyes trained on the weapon, the agile girl sank further into the darkness of the small room and silently crept around the figure, seizing the opportunity to take in any features the darkness would allow her pale eyes, of this human. Her movements were put to a halt by the casual greeting and the waving hand that connected to the silhouette. Although there seemed to be no malice in the tone that greeted her, she could hear the caution in his voice. Fool, Shadow thought bitterly. She was unsure if this man was supposed to be apart of the crew that Sir Jacque had assembled, but if he was then the credibility of Sir Jacque being the Clockwork Thief was dwindling. A foolish man, this silhouette was, giving away everything that could have gave him an advantage over her - that is, if there was such an idiotic thing.

    Shadow didn't answer the inquiry that was directed at her, instead, she would watch this pathetic excuse of a man and determine if he was truly a working gear in the 'Clockwork Thief's' crew. Of course, the three clicks and the flame that illuminated the tiny room was no help to the fellow who shed his silhouette form and grew features; feminine ones at that. His hair was longer than her own and much, much darker than the filthy blonde hair that hugged her head. In the flicker of the flame, the man's eyes were like melting glaciers to the burning orange and yellow. As the foolish man stepped forward, Shadow stepped back, flinching at the brightness of the light. She refused to give the secret of her presence away unlike the man who was as open as the vast night sky. Such vulnerability, Shadow thought in disgust. Her pale eyes were trained on his movements, while his baby blues took in the surroundings. Constant ticks and clicks and hums of gears turning and a arrow shot through the illuminated darkness right towards the foolish man who no longer seemed quite foolish. Shadow was impressed by the man's reflexes and the strength of the weapon he carried. Granted, the man was a strange one, seemingly on the verge of being insane, but who wasn't in Secunzo?

    The doubts of Sir Jacque was slowly receding as this foolish mate had proven himself to be functional. True, it wasn't in her jurisdiction to question the man who's crew she was now apart of, but to his benefit, the answers she found seemed promising.

    In the newly darkened room the silhouettes had a more prominent figure than before. The outline of the man she had been watching now dropped to the ground. With curious eyes Shadow watched the man pull the rug away from the floor, exposing floorboards that seemed to catch the man's curiosity. The girl crept closer to the findings. Even in the darkness, she could tell that there was something under the ostensible normal floor, it was a classic move: a hidden room under the rug. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she nodded approvingly, well done fool, she thought and watched him drop his dagger into the hole, but you will always be a fool. Shadow watched the silhouette drop down the hole and when she was certain that he had made his way to the bottom, she started after him, though with more precautionary moves.

    When the room was lit with the absurd lighter she had noticed the clutter of clockwork in the room. Every nook and cranny seemed to have clockwork in it. Even if the man was fooled by the seemingly plain decor, Shadow wasn't. She had seen the trap that the man foolishly stepped into and figured that there were a lot more of them laying around. The clock that hung on the wall perpendicular to the rug, the nutcracker by the door, and the steel bird that hung on the wall in front of the rug and had gears ticking in its chest. These were only a few traps that the girl knew or suspect to exist and she wasn't going to fall victim to the arrows that shot out of them. Instead, she followed the mimicked the actions the man took. Carefully stepping over the invisible sting that had triggered the nutcracker, Shadow crouched low to the floor and slithered to the hatch that held the secret the fool had disappeared into.

    With careful hands, Shadow opened the hatch and peered down into the darkness. Gears moaned behind her and she knew that someone had figured out how to set the hands on the scarlet-spring door. She wasn't going to be the one to welcome the newcomer. Shadow quickly dropped down onto the ladder and shut the hatch behind her just as the hinges of the entrance whined. The Clockwork Thief had set the trap for a reason, as she was making sure that those who found the entrance were going to be worthy mates.
     
    #9 Aetherea, Nov 29, 2013
    Last edited: Nov 29, 2013
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  10. Lysel looks in dismay as Shadow disappears into the trap door. At the very least, she knew where she was supposed to go now.

    The girl takes very, very careful steps forward, hunched over, head down. Knowing the modus operandi of dark, out-of-the-way places inhabited by criminals and sometimes law enforcement, it would be dark, full of traps, and most likely observed by several invisible pairs of eyes. She keeps her senses tuned to anything that might sound like a "whirr" or a "shing," sounds that meant something lethal was about to spring on her.

    Trip.

    Lucky for her, the arrow was meant to impale someone much larger, walking normally. The arrow neatly misses Lysel's crouched form. Though her brush with death was a lot less dramatic than most, she reacts as if it had missed by a hair, anyway. She yelps, and remains frozen, her foot still inching the trip-wire slightly forward.
     
  11. Justice was late for the meeting. At the moment, dressed simply as a young man, he tried to rush without appearing so. Luckily, he was familiar with the layout of the roads and quickly found the clock he was looking for. Discretely, he set the hands to 3:17, then turned it twice to 3:28. The following seconds felt like years, but finally the door unlocked. He slipped inside, hoping desperately that nobody saw him. He'd be able to escape, of course, but there'd be no chance of joining the party if that happened.


    The room was very dark, and in his fear of the outside he'd forgotten to get a look at the inside. Still, it was certain that there would be some sort of surprises waiting in store. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust faster. When he opened then, he took a quick glance around the room. There was intricate clockwork all around the walls, and numerous figures, just waiting But one figure stood out as something more. This was no clockwork statue, there was another person in here. “Excuse me,” he broke the heavy silence, “this... is the place, isn't it?”
     
  12. "DAGH!" Lysel yelps, triggering the trap once more. A second bolt flies out, this one uncomfortably closer than its predecessor thanks to the girl's involuntary jump.

    Lysel instinctively leans back, crashing soundly on her back. She looks up at the darkness behind her, and sees a vaguely human shape.
     
  13. Jacque caught all his daggers as he heard the trap go off. "It would be most unfortunate to have to clean up. I certainly hope no one is bleeding all over my floors," he smiled as he continued to hear more movement above. He got up from his comfortable position. His daggers vanished, and he began walking. "I guess its time to welcome some of the new crew." He pulled out a pocket watch. It's familiar ticking rhythm evoked an interesting feeling within him. The switch on top was clicked and it opened up. Looking into the complexities of the clockwork mechanism was like staring at a work of art. It had never bored Jacque and perhaps never will. "He seems to be a running a bit late. I may have to scold him later." Jacque quietly shook his head. He finally arrived at a medium sized room. There were levers, pulleys, and many other apparatuses meant for control. He cracked his knuckles and proclaimed, "Let the fun begin!"

    The entire structure underground burst into frantic life. Walls shuddered, floors shook, and there was a metal symphony playing beneath every crevice and crack. Panels were flipped open to reveal an assortment of arms, and contraptions. Lanterns were lit. Entire hallways and rooms revealed themselves. Entire rooms were lowered and raised. All this without a single sound leaking above. In a sudden moment, all sound was lost. Nothing was heard except for a single repetitive ticking sound.

    The large man shrugged all his scrolls apart from one. He smiled as he saw the seal of the Watch Duke. "Damn fine luck to get it in one piece. I'll be bettin that old man is stirrin up a storm." He looked at a nearby clocktower. "Fuck... the boss is gonna to be a mad as a cat. I'll better be runnin soon, or bam. Me head goes spinnin off." The large man began jogging towards an alleyway. It was getting dark, but the alleyway was still visible. There was a small crimson spring barely noticeable between two large copper gears. The large man heaved the left gear up four rivets, and an entrance opened up in by his side. He quickly jumped in and heard the solid sound of the door closing behind him. It was pure darkness but he ran through without much thought. The way he moved was surprisingly nimble and there was barely a sound made with each footstep. The ground shook, and he stopped. "Oh no. He's startin it already. I'll have to move a bit faster. Those recruits won't know what'll hit em." The smile on his face was like a beacon in the dark.

    The old man had seen the man enter the alley. Scrolls were scattered nearby. "I should have known..." A knife appeared in his right hand. The hilt was very worn and old, but the edge was as keen as a newly forged blade. He was annoyed not to find the man within the darkness. It was a dead end, and he knew something was amiss. His wrinkled eyes picked up something interesting a crimson spring partially hidden by two gears. He put his ears to the wall and felt something. A small vibration, almost existent. His tired expression grew more pronounced. "Fucking thieves and their clockwork labyrinths. I thought the Duke sealed them for good." He looked at the right gear and tried to push it down. It didn't budge. He did it again with the left and encountered the same result. The old man sighed and tried pushing it up this time. It clicked up three times, but nothing happened. In desperation he tried to push it up as far is it could go, but it only took one more click. He groaned and headed in. The darkness surrounded him, and he gathered in his training. He used to be the best of the Duke's men before those abominations took over. There was no way a single man can escape his grasp.
     
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  14. The girl's shriek sent Justice into reflex mode. Without even thinking, he pulled the twin daggers he always carried with him out of his sleeves and took on a fighting stance. Unfortunately, he ended up running straight into another trap. The clockwork figure swung the blade it had been hiding, forcing Justice to duck to avoid being cut in two. Now bent over backwards, as if in a game of limbo, Justice caught his breath. After what must have been at least a minute, he slowly stood up. Carefully making his way over to the girl, he offered a helping hand. He trusted that she was meant to be here, but if she made a move, he'd be ready.
     
  15. Carefully, Lysel gives the man her hand. "Thanks..." She mumbles, barely a whisper for fear of activating another trap.
     
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